Impossible is nothing if you're Italian
by StarsOfYaoi
Summary: *GerIta, SpaRo, mentioned others* the Italian brothers get pregnant at the same time... the world might not be ready for that.
1. Chapter 01

**SOY:** this is an old kink meme fill I should have taken up sooner than I have. I'm sorry! It's not discontinued! This is chapter one, revised and corrected, and the others will follow soon. :) please tell me if you like!

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Rating**: K+.

**Warnings:** mpreg (male x male pregnancy), some crack and angst, depending on the situation, fluff.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Impossible is nothing, if you're Italian**

**Chapter 01**

The day had started well, everything considered.

Italy was visiting again (or to be truthful, he had _slept over_ again, and remained to hang out during the day), and for the main part of the afternoon he'd painted in the garden, with Germany's dogs keeping him company; the German Nation had used that free time to work, knowing that once Italy finished his painting, he would–

"Ve~, Ludwig, do I look fat~?"

Germany's hand came to a sudden halt, and he dropped the pen, looking up at Italy with a frown; the question per se was not strange, as they had fallen into a similar argument already once before, but given what had happened the previous time, Germany didn't really want to get into it ever again.

Without thinking too much of it, he glanced at his lover and shrugged noncommittally, returning his attention to the paperwork he had in front of him.

Running around, chasing the Italian Nation and trying to feed him a week–old plate of pasta wasn't one of Germany's favourite memories, after all.

Not fun. At all.

Italy shifted closer, nudging his arm insistently until Germany put down the pen and looked back up at him –it looked like he wasn't going to give up, and the blond man inwardly sighed.

"No, really, Ludwig~ I think I'm _really_ becoming fat…" the Italian nation wiggled his toes (when did he remove his shoes?) and stood straighter, bouncing away from him. "It's we~ird!"

Germany sighed, resigning himself to the fact that his work wouldn't be done anytime soon –when Italy was in such a mood, he wouldn't stop until he was reassured, and only then would Germany be allowed to continue working.

"Why are you saying this?" he asked, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Last time… you're not going to stop eating, right?" his eyes narrowed down, dark and threatening.

Italy eeped and almost scrambled away, eyes wide. "No! No! I promised you! I swear I'll never stop eating ever again! Don't make _that_ face! Ve~ you're sca~ry!"

Germany nodded, satisfied.

"Well~ my stomach _is_ getting rounder, you see?" returning to the previous subject, Italy squinted his eyes and pointed at his midsection, still under his white and blue shirt.

Raising one eyebrow, Germany stared at his stomach, perplexed –to him it looked just about the same as usual.

"Look~!" shifting his shirt up, Italy moved closer, almost pouncing on Germany, and the blond blushed, looking away. "It's growing! It's growing!" Italy yelled.

Forcing his blush away –despite having seen the expanse of Italy's naked skin enough to know it by hand, he was always terribly flustered by his lover's lack of modesty– Germany turned his eyes towards the other's stomach…

… and his frown deepened.

Actually, now that he looked closer, there was a bulge on the other Nation's stomach. It looked like Italy had gained weight once again… but how?

Italy wasn't one to gain weight just by eating and sleeping (last time, Germany was sure it was simply a congestion), and with all of his running and bouncing around, getting fat was surely the last thing expected.

"Ve~ see? See? _Sto diventando grasso_~!" tears started pooling in Italy's eyes as he said so, and Germany felt suddenly cold.

He didn't want a moody Italian man on a diet again!

He still had nightmares of running around with pasta, and despite Italy's promise of never doing it again… there they were, a fat, worried Italy crying and fidgeting. Stubborn as he was, his lover would surely manage to cause problems.

"I–I…" but he _really_ didn't know what to say.

Lying was not an option, not with the obvious evidence.

_Why_ was he dating this idiot again?

"I… I don't understa~nd! I've been eating normally, and not as much pasta as before, and it's really, really hard, Ludwig! And I run around all day and yet…" Italy stared up at him, wide brown eyes filled with tears, "look at me! _I'm fat again_!"

Germany was about to pat him on the head to calm him down, but then, just like that, Italy froze.

A second before, he'd been wiggling and twisting and fidgeting, hands tugging at his shirt, teary–eyed, and the next…

The next second he was running out of the room, cheeks a strange shade of violet.

"Fe–Feliciano?"

Germany didn't move from the desk for a few seconds, his brain processing what had happened, then he stood up, shocked; following his lover our of the office, he tried to locate where Italy had gone, vaguely afraid of what the Italian Nation would decide to do now that he was convinced of being fat.

Maybe exercising until he fainted, or bawling his eyes out, or going to ask France for help, or–

Retching sounds coming from the bathroom stilled Germany's train of thoughts, making him falter in his pace.

Was Italy…

"Feliciano! Stop it! This is not how you will solve the problem!" he yelled, stomping into the bathroom.

Hunched over the toilet, shivering, Italy let out a gurgle of disapproval and heaved again, hands clutching at the sides of the toilet, knuckles turning white; Germany's frown deepened even more as he kneeled at Italy's side, wrapping a comforting arm around the other Nation's shoulders.

Italy whined as he vomited again, frame shuddering and gasping, and Germany massaged his back until the trembling subsided, and his ragged gasps calmed down.

"F… Feliciano?"

After a moment more of silence, Italy spit into the toilet and looked up. "I–I'm… fine, I guess," he stated in a wobbly tone, standing up slowly and moving to the basin.

Germany flushed the toilet and watched as his lover washed his face and hands with cool water, rinsing his mouth; with a startle, he realised Italy's hands were still trembling.

"What… you were not trying to solve this by… _right_?" he had to make sure the thought hadn't crossed Italy's mind –this was exactly something Italy would try, after all…

"No!" Italy turned around, grabbing one of Germany's hands in his own. "It… I… I suddenly felt sick, that's all! I'm feeling better now! Maybe I ate something foul…"

Germany's frown turned even deeper, if possible, and this time in worry. Maybe he was a bit protective over Italy (he guessed it came from over a decade of having to rescue him from all sorts of dangers), but he had a good reason to be.

Still, he knew there was nothing he could do at the present moment, other than nurse Italy back to his bouncy self. He doubted Italy ate something foul in the first place, so maybe he was just coming down with a flu…?

With a sigh, he pressed a gentle kiss on Italy's forehead, making his lover giggle happily, and gathered him close for a hug, knowing that he would surely appreciate it. Italy let out a soft hum, hugging Germany back, then pushed him away, smiling.

"I know what I can do to cheer up~" he chirped, bouncing down the corridor as if nothing had happened. "I'll make tortellini!"

Rolling his eyes at Italy's predictability, Germany followed him to the kitchen, knowing that he wouldn't be able to work at all now.

…–…–…–…

Spain was happy. Not that he usually wasn't (how could he be, when he had many fields of tomatoes to harvest, the company of his lovely adorable Romano, and a sky as blue as this one?), but today he felt even happier than usual.

Someone could object that every day Spain spent with Romano was his 'happiest day ever', but Spain didn't meddle with such technicalities.

The case he was holding was filled with bottles of Italian wine, and he had in front of him an entire day to spend with his sweetheart, so…

"O–oi, stupid Antonio!"

Cheerfully dropping the case he was holding on the closest surface available, not even cringing when the bottles clinked dangerously against each other, Spain straightened up and bounced over to Romano's side.

"_Sì_, _mi Tesoro_?" he cooed, smiling brightly at the other Nation.

South Italy was growling, holding a box of tomatoes in his arms and keeping them as far from his body as he could, and the moment Spain got to his side, his glare moved towards him instead.

"Lovino~ what's the matter? Hungry?" the Spaniard asked, latching on the Italian man's arm. "Hmm… those look yummy…"

Valiantly resisting the urge to kick or head–butt Spain, South Italy opted for growling again, pushing the case of tomatoes into the other Nation's eager arms., with enough force to make Spain go "oufff!"

"_These_" he punctuated, pointing at the innocent–looking fruits, "are _surely_ rotten!"

Spain blinked, his smile faltering for a second as he stared down at the red, ripen tomatoes, almost expecting them to puff into dark smoke and reveal their deceit. Rotten? They looked fresh, perfect, just like all the other cases he had in his basement, part of which would be sold at the market during the week.

Why would this particular box be rotten?

"They look fine to me, Lovi~" he objected, placing the box on the ground and grabbing one tomato up.

He fingered it softly, almost lovingly. It wasn't too compact, but not too soft, either… the perfect consistence. The colour was a bright, vivid red, and he didn't use pesticides, so… what could be wrong with it? The taste? The smell?

A careful sniff and Spain was convinced that it was definitely not that –divine smell of fresh tomatoes in the morning…

He bit into the fruit, sweet juices filling his mouth, and that was the final proof that his tomatoes were just about perfect –the taste was heavenly.

_Hmmm_… yeah, with a bit of salt it would taste even better…

"D–damn you, Antonio! I tell you, _it is rotten_!" Romano's face was flushed in anger, eyebrows twitching dangerously, fists clenched in fury. "They smell… awful!"

Spain, still in post–coital bliss at the taste of tomatoes, looked at him with haze–filled eyes, not understanding what he was saying. How could such a marvellous creation be rotten? "Romanito, you're surely–"

"S–stay away, your breath smells foul!" South backed away instantly, cheeks turning so pale he looked ready to puke on Spain's shoes, which wasn't exactly the reaction the Spaniard had expected. "I can barely s–stand their smell, stay away!"

Ignoring Romano's yells (one had to develop at least a partial immunity to his cursing, especially if that person was Spain, who had to live together with the Italian man for most of the latter's childhood), Spain moved closer, pressing the back of his hand to the other Nation's forehead.

The reaction was an expected splutter, Romano's cheeks turning crimson as he threw a hissing fit. "T–the hell are you doing, you bastard! D–don't touch me!"

"I was checking if my little Lovi was ill, of course~" turning his usual doting self, Spain patted his head. "It'd be the only explanation possible, since you're turning down tomatoes all of sudden… was it something you ate?"

"N–no!"

The answer was a bit too fast, and Spain's eyes glinted in understanding.

"What was it that you gobbled down? Was it the stale cake that has been in the oven since Christmas?"

"F–for God's sake, no! And throw that thing away! It's growing eyes on it!"

Waving his hand in the air, Spain shrugged. They were not talking about that cake and his forgetfulness now. "Then was it pickled cucumbers?"

Flushing even more, Romano shook his head wildly, shifting in a defensive position and muttering something, crossing his arms on his chest and looking to the side. "I…"

"Yes, _mi niño_?"

"_Nothing_" he flushed darker, growling and turning his back to Spain. It was far too embarrassing to admit that, and he preferred to be groped by France ten times to actually admit of what he'd eaten.

Poking at South Italy's side with a finger, Spain moved to stage one –prod Romano until he caved in; it was usually effective, if you didn't take into account the many head–butts he received when Romano decided that enough was enough.

Not that Spain ever remembered those afterwards, since he got to cuddle with Romano by then.

"Tell me~" he chirped, smiling brightly. "Tell me~ tell me~ tell me~"

"…"

He prodded more, bouncing around his still lover…

"I couldn't hear you, Lovi–"

"_**I said I ate American potatoes**_! Happy now? There was this _vecchietta_ who was selling them… baked American potatoes… and they smelled _so_ good…"

Romano's voice drifted off as a small line of drool appeared on the side of his mouth; just recalling those steamy, inviting potatoes was enough to make Romano's stomach growl.

Spain's eyes widened in shock and he took a step back, dramatically lifting one hand to his forehead –the personification of utter disbelief.

"Oh, it's _escandaloso_!" he yelled, waving his other arm around, sending tomatoes seeds flying everywhere. "You… eating American potatoes? _¡El mundo viene a un final_!"

Which, despite his over dramatization, was actually surprising. Romano, whilst not disliking potatoes as much as he claimed, had a particular hatred for the American kind –the sweet ones– so it was truly a surprise to see him so into them.

Romano's flush was reaching scandalous levels of redness, and at Spain's snicker following his dramatic words he exploded, punching his lover on the cheek and turning around, yelling curses and profanities as he slammed the door of Spain's house behind his back.

He was going to vent off in Spain's kitchen, just as usual, and in the meanwhile, he would cook something delicious.

Spain collected himself, chuckling at how cute his little Romano was when he got all flushed and flustered, and picking up both the box of tomatoes and the case of wine he had been holding before, he wobbled to the door, smiling brightly.

There wasn't a moment of boredom when he was with his adorable lover, after all!

"_Mi __cariño_ Romanito, cute like a tomato~"

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**SOY:** that was the first chapter. It has been edited a bit since the original version in the kink meme, and there are at least four more ready (that will give me the time to keep on writing, hmm?) ^^

Please drop a review if you want!

_Sto diventando grasso (Italian) __–_ I'm turning fat

_Tortellini (Italian) __–_ food :P

_Tesoro (Spanish)_ – treasure (endearing)

_Mi niño (Spanish)_ – my child (endearing)

_vecchietta (Italian) –_ old woman

_Escandaloso (Spanish) – _ scandalous

_Cariño__ (Spanish) __– _my beloved (Endearing)

_¡El mundo viene a un final! __(Spanish) –_ The world is coming to an end!


	2. Chapter 02

**SOY:** second chapter redone! Thank you to everybody who reviewed! *hugs you all*

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Rating**: K+.

**Warnings:** mpreg (male x male pregnancy), some crack and angst, depending on the situation, fluff.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Impossible is nothing, if you're Italian**

**Chapter 02**

"Ve~! Ludwi~g! Ludwig! Please, come! I beg of you!"

Germany's fingers tightened around the receiver as he slammed it down, standing up in a hurry. Italy had just called him (an eerie resemblance to the many phone calls he'd received during the war), and his voice had been panicked, and definitely scared.

More than just scared, to Germany's worried ears, Italy had sounded even frightened, of a different tone than the stupid reasons from before, and the thought made his heart constrict in his chest.

Warfare had ended so many years before, but that didn't mean Italy couldn't get himself into some problem or another.

The thought worried him more than it should.

Germany was out of the house seconds later, taking with him only the keys and his wallet; breaking all speed records set previously, he reached Italy's house in no time at all. Thankfully, Nations could move differently from normal humans, otherwise it would have taken him all day.

Slamming the entrance door and hurrying inside Italy's house, Germany was prepared for almost anything –from monsters coming from one of England's failed magic to aliens attacking from America's house– but what he saw… was completely different.

Yet, in true Italian fashion, it still managed to shock Germany to the core.

Italy was sitting at the kitchen table, frozen with a cloth over his mouth, skin of a very pale colour, and in front of him, intact (which was the worrisome part) was a plate full of pasta.

Still unwilling to accept the fact that Italy had once again managed to make him fret over something trivial, Germany inspected his lover's body, finding no wounds, eyes checking every inch of the room for hidden dangers, but there was none. Why had Italy felt the need to call him with such a desperate, panicked voice when there was nothing wrong?

Was it possible that Italy had once again overreacted about something trivial?

… well, Germany had to give it to him –that was very possible, indeed.

"L–Ludwig! You came~"

Italy twisted around, noticing his lover in the room, and stood up, completely missing Germany's embarrassed expression (he was still berating himself for falling so readily to Italy's pleas), moving towards him.

Germany braced himself for the usual tackle, but was surprised when instead of running at top's speed at him, Italy wobbled slightly, reaching him and finally allowing himself to fall into Germany's ready arms with a sigh of relief.

Out of habit, the German Nation held him close, arms wrapping around his frame and feeling the possessive part of his brain purr contentedly at the motion.

"Feliciano, I told you over and over not to–" then he stopped. Italy was staring up at him, eyes open wide and reddened for crying, whilst the rest of his face looked sickly pale.

All his previous annoyance gone, replaced instantly by another rush of worry, Germany gently kissed Italy on the forehead.

Holding him close, bodies fit against each other, Germany tried his best to console his Italian lover, not knowing what was wrong but willing to wait until he was ready to talk.

And… was that his stomach poking uncomfortably at his own? Germany had to admit he wasn't expecting Italy to be growing fat so fast…

"V–ve, Ludwig… I'm glad you came here so fast…"

"Feliciano," even though Italy looked apparently unharmed, Germany could see that something was wrong. "What happened? Why did you call me?"

"I… I can't eat it!" pointing at the pasta on the table, Italy hid his face into the German man's chest. "I can't really eat it, Ludwig!"

With a glance towards the table, Germany noted that the pasta looked just like all the pasta Italy had cooked before.

He couldn't really understand.

"Feli–"

"I can't eat my pasta anymore! At all! It's not just one plate, it's pasta! It smells awful, it tastes like burnt paper! I keep cooking and cooking but the taste never changes! Oh, my lovely pasta, why? Why~?"

Germany blinked, and detaching himself from his lover, he threw another look around in the kitchen. It was quite true, there were piles of dirty plates and pots with remains of all the different kind of sauces Italy loved on pasta.

He guessed that the bin would be also full of the cooked, cold pasta.

Looking back at Italy, Germany felt the worry spike up again; he was pale, of a sickly white, and was sobbing so hard, not his usual crying over stupid things, but crying like someone who's just lost their pet, or something.

All of this reaction was for pasta.

Had Germany being less worried, he would have bumped him on the head.

"Feliciano, how are you feeling? Are you sick?" with firm hands he probed the Italian man's neck, forehead and cheeks, searching for signs of some kind.

Italy hiccupped.

"I… I keep throwing up… i–in the morning, and s–sometimes in the afternoon, and the pasta… and I keep wanting broccoli, but I _hate_ broccoli!" his tone turned whiny, desperate. "A–and my back aches so much, and I feel tired, and cranky, and weak–"

Leaning forwards, Germany let his lips press lightly on those of Italy, making him shut up after a last hiccup; careful not so jolt him around, he took the Italian Nation in his arms and brought him out of the kitchen, sitting down on the sofa in the sitting room and holding him close to his chest.

Italy whimpered, shuffling on his lap and trying to find a comfortable position, but quickly relaxed, settling and snuggling against Germany's broad chest.

As he remained still, holding his lover close, Germany tried to sort out the recent happenings; Italy was suddenly looking ill, he couldn't eat pasta (which _was_ something to worry about), vomited often, was in pain…

Taking the opportunity to check out what had worried him previously, the German Nation lifted Italy's shirt, pressing his hand against the naked skin.

Just as expected, Italy's belly was showing more than usual. It also felt rounder to the touch, so it wasn't just his imagination…

Italy growled.

Germany looked down at him with a frown, and found a pair of brown eyes glaring up at him, accusing. He took away his hand as if scalded, and Italy stood up and far from him, cheeks flushed red.

"Feliciano, wha–"

"I know I'm fat! But it's not my fault! It's been one week! And I cannot eat pasta, and I swear I've been trying to stop eating things, but I can't! So don't try to blame it on me! I don't need that, _damn you_!"

Hiding his stomach with one arm, he slapped Germany's hands that had tried coming up to encircle his frame again, and backed away, eyes wide and filled with fury.

"D–don't come near me, you bastard!"

Completely shocked at the sudden mood swing, Germany stood up, feeling a pang in his heart at his lover's words, together with a strongest sense of worry. He didn't really know what to–

"Feliciano, I–"

"Uwaa~! Ludwig~! I'm… I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! _Scusami_! D–don't hate me! I love you so much!"

A second later, he had an armful of a sobbing Italian man. And he couldn't still understand anything about what was happening.

'_T–the hell? There was nothing about this in my manuals!'_

Germany closed his eyes and hoped to get out of this situation alive, so that he could go and buy a book on how to deal with suddenly extremely moody Italian men.

…–…–…–…

"…"

"…"

"… so… you… uh, you look, well…" Spain stammered, looking at everywhere but at Romano, who was clearly on the brink of losing it completely, and the Spaniard felt he was in trouble. "I mean, uh…"

Romano was staring at him with eyes wide and darkened in anger, hands clenched into fists, and Spain tried to think something to say that would not make him angry. Unfortunately, in this situation, he really didn't know what could be safe.

He really didn't want to be kicked out from the house again –three times in three days were enough, and Spain really missed sleeping in his bed.

For the lack of a better word, Romano was gone bananas. Hmmm… bananas… momentarily side–tracked, Spain tilted his head to the side, only to quickly return to the current problem with a gasp.

No! it wasn't good to be losing focus!

One single mistake, and Romano would shift from being calm, even _nice_ (something that scared the shit out of Spain, actually) to a vicious cat, thrashing the room and throwing tomatoes and cutlery at him.

Not to mention how his eating habits had changed, until nothing of what he was used to eat appealed him. which in turn made him the more angry and prone to bitching.

No pasta.

No tomatoes.

Hell, even Spain's prided churros were making him twitch in disgust!

His little Italian lover was living off potato–based foods and fish, the kind of expensive, hard to find fish that he demanded Spain to go buy him.

And this –which made the rest pale in comparison. His dear South Italy was gaining weight, and he was doing so at an alarming rate; after a week his perfect body was sporting a bulge on his belly, but no fat anywhere else on his body. It was quite disconcerting, and yet Spain found it strangely arousing.

It tickled something inside of him, making his heart throb with necessity to hug Romano close, and at the same time tugged at the chords of his heart and vital regions, making him more passionate, too.

This rounder Romano was, frighteningly enough, sexually alluring.

Not that Spain thought of normal Romano as ugly. If anything, he would have made love to him any time of the day, holding him close, whispering words of love… but there was something different now, and Spain couldn't but react to this. Of course, he couldn't dream about mentioning this without incurring in his lover's wrath and homicidal bouts.

And now… it looked like the bulge had suddenly gotten even bigger.

"I asked you a question, bastard!" Romano hissed, attracting Spain's wandering attention back to him. "I–it's visible, isn't it?"

Gulping down his uneasiness, Spain knew he was doomed either way.

So, he simply nodded and looked away, hoping against hope that his adorable little South Italy wouldn't kill him. or kick him out. The patio was terribly uncomfortable at night.

"T–then…" Romano's voice suddenly lowered, and Spain cringed. "Am I… am I that repulsive that you can't even look at me?"

Spain's head snapped towards his lover in a second, ready to deny his stupid claim and proceed to demonstrate him in detail why the Italian Nation would never be disgusting to him, but unfortunately, luck was not on his side.

"Y–you bastard! You do think I'm disgusting! I'm fat! _Vattene a fanculo, Antonio, brutta merda_!"

And much to Spain's shock, instead of a flying tomato coming his way, Romano simply started crying.

Hard.

The sight of an openly bawling his eyes out Romano broke Spain's heart. He stepped forwards in a flash, hurrying so that his cute, adorable lover wouldn't keep thinking this, but Romano kicked him in the guts with such a strength that Spain fell on the ground, painfully clutching at his vital regions, lungs burning with lack of air.

"R–" he wheezed.

Too late –Romano was already out of the bed and out of the room, still completely naked.

Moments later the front door slammed close.

It took almost ten minutes for Spain to recover enough to stand up, and by then, Romano was gone somewhere already.

"Ah… m–mierda!" he groaned out, still pathetically clutching his pained crotch.

Then he was out of the house as well, chasing his lover down.

…–…–…–…

Germany thought the crisis had passed when he was finally able to detach himself from the still shaken up Italian man, patting awkwardly his head and retiring to the kitchen to prepare some tea for the both of them.

He'd thought that coffee would be far too much, given the state Italy was in, but at least he seemed rather fine, if only crying and shaking in pain and fear.

His level of discomfort was high enough for Germany to feel uneasy; he didn't know how to comfort his lover, sobbing so pitifully that the German Nation wanted nothing more than hold him close, and yet…

What could he do? He wasn't knowledgeable in this sort of thing!

No book could explain him in detail how to help a distraught Italian man that was blaming himself for yelling at him!

Unfortunately for the poor German Nation, things were not going to get any easier yet.

Which was exactly why, when the front door was kicked open so hard it slammed on its hinges and against the wall, Germany brought his hands to his temples and started massaging the headache away.

He knew things were going to get even more complicated now.

With steady hands, be prepared two cups of tea and moved to the sitting room, ready to face anything.

That 'anything', as it was, did not include the sight of a stark naked, sobbing mess of a Southern Italian standing on the door, to hell with modesty, staring at his equally crying younger brother with a mix of anger and shock and pain all rolled into one single ball.

"Lo–Lovino?" Germany cautiously moved forwards, having the intelligent idea to place the tea down on the side table before doing so.

'_Oh, for the love of–'_

"_Fottuto bastardo_!" Romano's eyes, dark with fury and rage, turned towards him in a split second. "Out. Of. My. _**House**_! How dare you make Feli cry? _Vattene! Ora!_"

Then, he started cursing in strict Italian, and Germany didn't really need a degree in languages to understand that Romano wasn't complimenting him for the tea, either.

Germany's brain only had the chance to register a few things before he found himself standing outside of Italy's house, door slamming against his face.

One –it looked like it was deeply engrained in the Italian brothers' blood to run around naked when in a hurry.

Two –he'd been picked up by his neck and kicked out by Romano, of all people.

And now he was standing outside, without his coat and without having understood a single thing that just happened.

"Ah… F–Feliciano? Lovino?" Germany turned around, knocking on the door.

"Don't even think about coming back! Fucking bastard! I swear I'll shoot you!"

With a sigh, Germany massaged his temples again.

Maybe he could just humour them and go out to find a book on 'dealing with angry, crying Italian people' before coming back.

After all, it looked like Romano would not calm down anytime soon.

Peering into the house by the window, Germany observed Romano launch himself into Italy's open wide arms, both sobbing in synch.

He had the sudden, strong need to slam his head against the wall, but valiantly resisted.

_Mein Gott._

He picked up his phone, dialling Austria's number.

It looked like he needed help once more…

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**SOY:** that was it. ^^ I hope you liked! Please drop me a review to comment!

_Scusami (Italian) _– Forgive me

_Vattene a fanculo, Antonio, brutta merda! __(Italian)_ – Go fuck yourself, Antonio, ugly shit!

_Mein Gott (German_) – My God

_Fottuto bastardo (Italian)_ – Fucking bastard

_Vattene! Ora! (Italian)_ – Go away! Now!


	3. Chapter 03

**SOY:** thank you, readers! I'm so happy you like it! I am trying to give this fic a lighter, sillier approach despite the many possibilities I have to turn this into an angsty piece. Now, repeat with me. "Too much angst is bad. Write it happy". It might help me. *fails*

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Rating**: K+.

**Warnings:** mpreg (male x male pregnancy), some crack and angst, depending on the situation, fluff.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Impossible is nothing, if you're Italian**

**Chapter 03**

Although shocked by his brother's sudden appearance, Italy felt a sudden sense of relief and warmth make its way inside him.

"Lovi~" he sobbed, feeling fresh tears roll down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Romano's shoulders, holding him close.

Burying his face in his older brother's neck, Italy felt just the slightest bit better.

He didn't understand why he was still secretly angry at Germany –he couldn't find a reason to, yet he _was_– and the anger mixed with guilt for yelling at him at the same time, as his lover hadn't done anything wrong, but at least Romano was there.

Maybe they didn't get along so well during the war, and they had their ups and downs even now, since Romano hated Germany with a passion, but Italy loved his brother a lot, and seeing him always calmed him down.

As it was, though, after crying for a long time in his brother's arms, Italy slowly became acutely aware that the frame holding him close was trembling as well, and he was naked (_'ve~ naked Lovi running around is strange…'_) and sniffling.

"V–ve~ Lovi…? What's wrong?" he asked, biting on his lower lip to stop the tears from coming.

S–stupid Germany made him cry so much! And crying so much was making him feel sick once again, his stomach contracting painfully.

Romano pushed him away a bit, eyes red with tears, cheeks equally red, and after glancing down at his brother, he cradled him into his arms again, seeking comfort and giving it at the same time.

"I–insensitive Antonio–bastard!" he sniffled, his tone coming out in a low growl. "W–why are _you_ crying? Was it something the potato–bastard did? I swear I'll–"

"I'm… I'm gaining weight again~ and I feel ugly and horrible but Ludwig didn't do anything bad…"

Which was probably just as bad! He should have said something! Germany was always nice, so why didn't he console him!

'_But he did hold me close…'_ Italy was getting confused over his own thoughts.

"You're what?" South Italy blinked, nudging at Italy's side, shaking him out of his trance.

"Ah~ I'm fa~t!" he wailed.

Shifting away from his brother, Romano lifted Italy's shirt up and took a long look at his exposed stomach, outlining his rounder belly so much like his own.

Eyes darkened up in shock.

"The fuck?"

Italy sniffled, scrubbing his eyes dry and trying to calm down. His brother was here, it was ok. His brother had spontaneously come to him, and the thought gave Italy enough strength to stop crying.

Looking at Romano's naked body, Italy quickly noticed that he was, indeed, also sporting a round belly, and it was noticeable.

"Ve~ brother is getting fat too~?" tilting his head to the side, Italy hesitantly reached forwards, only to stop when Romano growled at him. "I–is that why you're here, Lovi? Did Antonio say something to you?"

South Italy harrumphed and looked to the side, massaging his belly and clearly sulking. Italy sighed, but there was a small smile on his lips as he curled closer, pressing one hand on his belly and closing his eyes.

"I–it's not normal," he murmured, shivering a bit. He felt suddenly cold. "Is… is yours growing so quickly too? Are you feeling sick, too?"

The older of the two Italies growled, but nodded.

Had it been just him, then it would be ok, but now… his little brother was showing his same symptoms, or at least similar ones.

Before, Romano wouldn't have cared. Back when they were kids, non–Nations, he'd despised Italy with all his heart, because he always got attention, and had so many skills that Romano envied him for. But during the war, and then afterwards… South Italy had seen something else that made him re–think his standing.

Italy was, in the end, his younger brother, and he cared for him, even if he didn't show it much even now.

If Italy was hurt, Romano wanted to help him. If Germany–bastard hurt him, he would hurt him back.

And now, it was not possible for the both of them to have the same thing going on. It was almost worrisome.

"I feel sick sometimes during the night," he admitted, biting his upper lip. "I can't eat tomatoes at all! A–and bread! I only eat potato–based foods, and they taste…" he scrunched up his nose, his brain complaining against the disgusting thing but his stomach grumbling in appreciation. "I surely caught the Potato–bastard syndrome! S–stupid Ludwig! S–stupid Gilbert!"

"Lovi~ something like this doesn't exist… probably," Italy replied, adding the last part as an afterthought.

Then glanced in direction of the kitchen, where Germany hadn't had enough time to clean up the pasta, so it was still everywhere.

He let out a soft whine.

The two remained silent for a while, strangely reassured by each other's presence, with Italy snuggled up against Romano's side and the older of the two curled up on himself.

"What if it's some sort of new sickness?" he murmured after a while, feeling a bit drowsy. "It could be anything, even a new wave of flu coming from… somewhere!"

"My economy feels fine, though… ve~" Italy replied, yawning. "And so do my agriculture and my factories…" he fidgeted a bit, feeling his stomach churn in pain. "Do you think this has anything to do with us being Nations?"

"If it does, there's no need to go see a doctor, damn it!"

Suddenly, Italy sprung to his feet, wobbling for a second before running out from the sitting room, feeling bile burn its way through his throat. Romano blinked his sleepiness away, shocked to hear retching sounds coming from the bathroom.

Standing up and vaguely disoriented, South Italy reached his brother in there and stared down at him, suddenly pale.

"You're sick" he stated.

"S_–sì_…" was the meek answer, followed by more throwing up.

Romano stood up straighter, face set on his usual, determined scowl. "Fuck with it. We're going to a doctor!"

"… first put on some clothes, brother…"

…–…–…–…

Italy nibbled on his lower lip, eyeing the few magazines left on the small table for the patients, promptly losing interest once he noted they were mostly medical–related or gossip ones, and glanced up at his older brother instead.

Romano was standing completely still, sitting straight as a rod, stiff and grumpy, and his demeanour was scaring away a few other people around them.

The two Nations had promptly reached the closest private clinic they could find and were now waiting for their turn in the common room, together with a few others.

Italy was starting to think that maybe this whole thing was a bit too much –he wasn't feeling sick anymore, now– but Romano, albeit reluctantly, had been the one to push him in there.

The older of the two had actually suggested Venice's hospital, but his idea had been promptly rejected by the other. Actually going to the hospital would mean an almost endless wait, for Italy himself knew how long it took to be taken in, and it would surely grant to their nerves, and whilst Lovino was almost always pissed off, an annoyed Feliciano was not something the world was ready for.

A nurse moved towards the two, nodding in their direction with a stern expression. She wasn't cute, and Italy pouted. He'd expected at least a smile. "The doctor will receive you in a moment, please come inside now".

She didn't turn around to show them the way, and remained to take the names of the next patient.

As they walked through the aisle to get into the doctor's office, Italy grasped Romano's hand into his own, asking and offering some comfort.

In all their long lives, they had never needed to go see a doctor –or at least a human doctor– for anything more than a broken bone here and there (which was quick to heal anyway).

But this was different. They were Nations, yet they didn't know what was going on. This sickness, these symptoms… they couldn't understand why they were showing up.

It happened often that they got the flu –with recessions and disasters, or simply when their economy was bad– usually together, and they ended up bitching at each other from one end of the bed to the other, but…

This felt different. They didn't know the cause.

Was it foreboding?

If the doctor couldn't find anything strange in then, they would need to see one of the older Nations and ask them for help instead.

"_Signori_ Vargas, it is a pleasure meeting you," the doctor was a tall man, with dark, brown hair and a small beard, and was smiling at them in a vague attempt at being friendly. He was Italian, and it meant he could feel, somewhere deep inside, that the two he was facing were something special and different from the rest of the people.

Although it could be just that they had enough money to pass off as wealthy, and that was the reason why the man bothered to be nice to them.

Common hospitals' doctors didn't get paid that much, after all.

The thought depressed Italy a bit, and instead of jumping at the chance to chat up with one of his humans, he simply pouted and shook the offered hand. "_Buongiorno, Signor_ Pinza".

"So," shaking away the strange feeling that slithered through his body the moment he touched the two young men's hands, the doctor sat down, clearing his throat. "What is the reason you came here?"

The two Italians looked at each other, but it was Romano who spoke up, his voice low and hesitant –he wasn't used to ask a _human_ for help.

He slowly recounted their symptoms, avoiding to speak about their lovers (amongst humans, a relationship with people of the same sex was still childishly regarded with the same hesitation with whom one would approach a wild predator), his face turning blank every time his lips had to avoid using a curse word.

"… and this has been going on for how long?" the man asked, writing down on his folder with relatively no interest.

"A few weeks," the two glanced at each other again, nodding to confirm Romano's words. "And we're both unable to eat the foods we used to love, as well" _'fucking shit! I can't take this useless nice–sucking up anymore! Damn it! Damn it!'_

"Anything else?"

"Our stomach looks all round~" Italy interjected, shifting on his chair and wriggling his toes inside the shoes.

He was starting to get bored.

"Hmmm, I see" Dr. Pinza nodded to himself, writing something on his computer. "It might be some sort of intestinal virus, though it doesn't look probable… to rule out the presence of something more dangerous than that, although it is even less probable, we'll have to run a few blood tests, and–"

"V–ve~? B–blood tests?" Italy's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Y–you mean you have to use syringes and needles?"

Romano shivered, feeling equally put off. No way! Fucking. No. Way!

"Well, yes," though perplexed, the doctor had seen his fair share of adult men scared of needles. It was quite normal in his profession. Many had fainted at the prospect of having to get blood extracted, too. "Please allow me to visit you both… I'll need to weight you, check your heigh and your health reports…"

Italy and Romano stared at each other again. They'd have to invent something about that, or make a quick call to their boss so that _he_ could invent something.

"Follow me to the adjacent room now…" Dr. Pinza stood up again, ready to proceed with the visit.

Italy undressed first, least embarrassed with being mostly naked in front of strangers –besides, this was a human, was it not?– shivering a bit when the man inspected his growing belly with a frown.

"Thank you," the doctor stated after a while, motioning for Romano to undress as well. "Now, if you could also come here…"

…–…–…–…

"R–really, Ludwig, I don't think I'm the right person to ask this to!" Austria looked around, trying to maintain a calm, untouched appearance when inside he was fretting like a kid. He felt both lost and terribly guilty, not that he would ever show it.

Besides, Germany was staring at him in determination, and once again, he broke through his defiance; Austria deflated.

He still remembered far too clearly the horrible tips he'd given to Germany during the Valentine's Day fallout over fifty years before, and even though he had most assuredly not been the cause of Italy and Germany's relationship deteriorating for the next twenty years, the Austrian aristocrat still felt guilty about it.

Had he explained Germany that you couldn't romance someone out of a book, then maybe…

It was only in the late seventies that the two had patched up, and only during the nineties they had finally hooked up, dating with a bit of hesitation and embarrassment.

But that belonged to the past.

They were together now.

Germany still respecting him enough to ask for help…

Austria could look to this as a new chance to make it up with the German Nation –who still didn't know anything about how the Austrian Nation felt, actually.

"Now, Roderich, please. I am sure that in the last twenty years, book guides have surely improved and progressed further!"

Suddenly in a more pliant mood, Austria returned his gaze on the various books the store offered to his eyes. There were truly so many guides, nowadays…

What could Austria do in the end, if not help the poor German man out as much as he could?

'_I think I should thank the Higher Beings that dear Elizaveta is not around…'_

"Moody Italians?" he asked, trying to look less self conscious and more professional. "Are you sure Feliciano isn't going through some sort of internal recession or something?"

"No, he's sick, but his economy still looks the same to me," Germany shook his head, at loss, "and his older brother is going through something similar –he popped up at Feliciano's house naked and crying and kicked me out".

Austria massaged his forehead, feeling a sudden bout of headache coming up.

"I wonder about that," he murmured, sighing. "I've lived with little Feli for a long period, but I've never seen him gaining weight, and even afterwards, it was just when you told him he was fat that he–"

"I didn't tell him he got fat!" defensively waving his arms in front of him, Germany scowled. "You're of no help here".

"It must be in the air," Austria didn't find it in him to reply to Germany's gruffness with his own retorts, so he simply ignored it. "Just… why don't you do something nice with him? A date, maybe take him out to the restaurant, or something".

He flushed, looking to the side, and noticed Germany doing the same. Ah, youth these days.

"I–I'll do that," the blond man picked up a book, shifting through the pages, and Austria tilted his head to read the title –_'10 things to do when dating your special someone'_.

Books lately became weirder and weirder on the account of whom wrote and read them, it appeared; idly, Roderich wondered what would the author think if he knew a Nation was using their book to get into the good graces of another Nation.

Humans were so silly, but Nations were apparently just as much.

"I thought you knew enough on how to behave with Feliciano," he stated, conversationally after a short pause spent staring down at a few music–related books.

The one on 'Entice your lover with Chopin' _did_ sound pretty well thought out…

Germany's flush covered his face down to his neck, but thankfully Austria was too caught up to notice it.

"Well, I _do_, but I _don't_ –he's hard to understand and –well, help is always welcome and… _forget it_!" Germany threw the book on the shelf and hurried over to the next one, busying himself with other date–books, whilst Austria, despite himself, couldn't restrain a chuckle.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**SOY:** another chapter is out! They're getting slightly longer, did you notice? But only a bit. Please drop a review if you liked!

_Dottore (Italian)_ – doctor

_Signori (Italian)_ – plural form for mister.


	4. Chapter 04

**SOY:** There's another chapter for you, I hope you will like ^^ sorry for the lack of posting from me, but I was under exams till now...

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Rating**: K+.

**Warnings:** mpreg (male x male pregnancy), some crack and angst, depending on the situation, fluff.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Impossible is nothing, if you're Italian**

**Chapter 04**

"B–brother? Do you think he'll wake up anytime soon?" a pause. "I have to go to the bathroom, ve~"

"W–who knows! The fucker! Damn it, I'm hungry! The hell is wrong with this human?"

Romano stomped to the fainted doctor's side and managed to restrain himself, kicking a nearby chair instead of his body, adding a long, endless streak of curses.

The situation had been quite simple. After getting some blood out of them, the doctor had proceeded to use a stethoscope on their backs and then on their bellies.

His reaction had been vaguely frantic, as he'd asked the two brothers to lie down on his chair to get an ultrasound scan; obviously scared, Romano and Veneziano had accepted, remaining in deep silence as the man covered their bellies with a disgusting, cold cream, pressing some sort of holder down on them, humming and growing the more panicked every minute passing by.

Both had stared at the computer screen to see if they could understand what was going on, but all they could see was black, white and tons of grey areas, and nothing else.

The machine was still working as his agitation had reached its limit, making him flop down, face red.

Without telling them what the problem was.

"How dramatic…"

Which, of course, made Romano quite angry.

"Feli, it was a bad idea to come over and ask a stupid human's help! You, useless man! Wake up!"

Italy winced as his brother kicked the chair once again, then kneeled next to the doctor. He felt a vague pain in his lower abdomen as he did so, a reminder that he had to go to the toilet as soon as possible.

He gently shook the man's shoulder.

"Ve~ _Dottor_ Pinza~ _si svegli_~"

The man looked dead to the world, so Italy slowly stood up again, moved to the sink and filled a nearby glass with water, moving back to the fainted doctor; a second later, he emptied the glass all over the man's face.

That got a reaction, finally, and the human promptly sat up, spluttering and gasping.

"Wh–wha–whe… _oh_".

The doctor got back on his feet and rushed to the machine, checking the screen once more. He couldn't believe it, but there it was, evidence! You can't lie to a machine.

He shifted uncertainly, almost as if trying to decide whether to get closer to the brothers or shift away, hands clenching around the stethoscope.

"Ve~ _Dottore, dottore,_ why did you faint?"

Italy moved closer, feeling uneasy and rubbing at his belly. The cream was everywhere, and it was still cold! "Did you get to know what is wrong with us?"

"Well, well, you see–" the doctor shook his hand, sitting down on his chair, bringing one hand to his head. This was… too much. Oh, so much. "The fact is…"

He got up again, pacing left and right. He was muttering things under his breath about thesis and studies he wanted to make, ignoring the two.

His nervousness was actually doing nothing to ease the Italian Nations' fears, and they both twitched at his obvious hesitation. It was truly irritating. They were there for information, and the man had first fainted, and now he was avoiding their questions?

They were cranky, hungry (and with a growing need to get to the closest toilet as soon as possible, too) and tired.

Romano growled at the man, hands clenched into fists, and was about to grab the doctor by his necktie when Italy moved forwards instead, anticipating him.

The younger Italian man grabbed the doctor by his neck, fingers tightening their hold around it and slightly choking him, and he growled under his breath, _lifting the human up_.

"I want to know what is wrong with us," he hissed threateningly, eyes narrowed in anger. "You don't want to know about my… _connections_, right?"

Blinking in surprise, Romano felt a wave of pride for his younger brother. To hear Italy use their 'family connections' to intimidate someone wasn't an everyday happening. And yet, he approved of it. He quite liked this side of Italy, after all…

The doctor's attention returned sharply to the two, gasping in Italy's grip, grabbing the other's hands in a vague attempt to make him let go; he was suddenly feeling that 'sensation' from before once again, only stronger and this time it was definitely unpleasant, as if he could feel 'disappointment' and 'anger' and 'hurry' that didn't belong to him.

Being a doctor, he didn't believe in things such as paranormal and the like, but right then and there, in this young man's grip, he suddenly felt truly, utterly afraid.

"The f–fact is, hmm… that both of you, something abnormal, that is, I found that…" Italy snarled in warning, and the doctor trembled in his grasp. "I have to do some more controls! I felt heartbeat inside your bellies!"

There was a moment of deep silence in the office, and Italy blinked in surprise, tilting his head to the side to look at his brother, who had the same confused expression on his face. "Ve~?"

"The fuck?"

The doctor backed away from them, adjusting his tie.

"You are… males, and yet –and yet, your symptoms, and the ultrasound scan… you should be pregnant!"

"Pre… pregnant?" Romano muttered, one hand against his temple.

Dr. Pinza's eyes turned suddenly brighter. This was a medical discovery that would give him fame and money! He'd just found a couple of males that could bear children!

"Your bodies are clearly male… on the outside, of course. And yet… but this is no hoax, see here?" he pointed at the screen, an invisible dark spot amongst all the white. "There is something different inside. A complete lack of female inter organs, and yet here, there is a placenta forming, and inside…"

"Wait wait wait, what?" Romano stepped forwards, glaring at the computer screen and then at the man.

To him, it all looked white and black. "Pregnant? As in, expecting a _baby_?"

The doctor, who had returned to his muttering about prizes and scientific research, nodded in happiness. "I–it's the first time something like this happens, and it is true! I need to do more tests and controls and scans and… are you really _sure_ you're not females turned males?"

This time, Romano _did_ kick the doctor.

…–…–…–…

"I think I should go back home, you know," Austria looked outside of the bookstore's window, surprised to see it was already late in the afternoon. "I invited Elizaveta over, and I planned on cooking something sweet to her".

Germany looked up from his fifth book and frowned, feeling his cheeks turn red in embarrassment. "Ah! Y–yes, I'm sorry about that!"

Quite lost in the many valuable guides he'd found (was it really three hours since he'd started looking?), he had failed to notice the time passing by.

For a split second, he wondered if he should let Austria go back to his house by himself, but the Austrian ex–aristocrat easily got lost everywhere, even in the streets of his own city, and allowing him to go without supervision would mean having to go search for him later on.

It would be even worse if Prussia were to find out. He was quite vicious when it came down to bothering the Austrian Nation.

Germany felt another headache coming, just by thinking about it.

Was he the only rational Nation around? Couldn't someone else try to be… realistic and… competent in something, just for once?

"Yes, let's go home," he muttered, shaking his head and hoisting the volumes he wanted to buy in his arms, moving to the cash desk.

"Do you plan on reading all these books before Feliciano comes back from… where did he go?"

Germany flushed crimson. "Uh… he was still at home with his brother when I left, I thought it better to let them be for now," he muttered. He'd been checking his phone for the last two hours, and yet no call or text message from his lover.

He felt still a bit depressed about it, but those books would surely help.

And then he would organize a wonderful date with him, and make it romantic, just like Austria suggested, and he would do everything by the book.

The Austrian Nation hummed under his breath, fingers twitching. Germany inwardly sighed, recognising the movement –Austria was mentally playing his piano, probably thinking that Germany and Italy were idiots.

Germany groaned, paying for his books and leaving the store, followed by his friend.

…–…–…–…

"Ve~ that was very anti–climactic," Italy murmured, shifting as he watched his brother tie the (once again) unconscious doctor to a chair. "Why did you have to knock him off again?"

"He's a stupid human, he would have started making awkward questions, and the nurse is still outside… I am not sure locking the door will stop her for long," Romano grunted, glaring down at Dr. Pinza.

"S–shouldn't we call someone, ve~?"

"Who? Do you think someone would be able to help with _this_?" South Italy pointed to his stomach, livid. "He fucking _knocked me up_! I'm going to sever Antonio's head and eat his liver next time I see him!"

Watching his brother throw a hissing fit, Italy giggled and shook his head; now that he knew what was going on, his worried were suddenly soothed. With a smile, he pressed his hand on Romano's shoulder. "Ve~ you should be happy… I mean, we're going to be daddies! Isn't it beautiful? It's–"

"It's the potato bastard's!" seething Romano turned around to glare at Italy's stomach, tightening the rope around the poor doctor; the man let out a startled moan of pain, but thankfully he didn't wake up. "H–he'll be the first one I'll torture! And then Antonio! I'll make them regret even _thinking_ about se–"

"Brother~" Italy whined, tugging at the other Nation's sleeve. "You should relax, it'd be bad for the baby… aren't you happy? It's been… centuries, maybe a millennia since one of us gave birth this way…" he paused, one finger pressed on his lips.

For a second, he thought about it. He didn't quite remember when was the last time he'd heard of actual pregnancy in regards to them as nations, but it happened so rarely that all he could come up with was Greece.

"Nations pop up like Alfred and his brother~ but we're able to feel life growing inside… I–I think it's really wonderful~"

South Italy glared up at his brother, pushing away from him and getting closer to the doctor's desk, slamming his fist on it.

"We don't even know if it's going to be like _us_!" he growled, trying to keep his voice low. "There is not space for new Nations in the world, unless you think this is a way to tell us that something will happen in the nearby future…"

"Ludwig and Antonio are Nations, and so are we… it shouldn't be a normal human~"

Italy had heard that a few kids born from Nations back in the past had been human –if he stretched his memory far back, he remembered his grandfather did tell him about it– but those were a small number in the already small number of pregnancy births.

Maybe they would be Regions or States, then? Regions did pop up like Nations, even if they were skirmish and mostly lived like humans, and he was sure that back then Regions and States _could_ be born like that…

Italy was forcibly reminded of their current situation when Romano slammed his fist against the desk again, and much to his younger brother's surprise, he was shaking.

With a sudden realisation, Italy understood that Romano, knowing all the implications of the situation, was still deeply afraid, and couldn't but think up the worst scenario.

It had never happened in over a millennia. If they babies were humans, not Nations or Regions or States… they would have to watch them grow up and die and leave them forever, and it would be the worst pain ever for them.

Neither of them knew how to work it out.

There were many things that could go wrong, and things would go downhill, and…

"Lovi… please…" he moved to South Italy's side, wrapping him into a tight embrace. It was only then that Italy realised he was also trembling, his brother's fear trickling inside his body and mind, meeting his own.

"I'm… ve~ I'm really afraid, too… I didn't think it could happen to us… b–but don't be angry, please?" he mumbled, hiding his face in Romano's chest. "It'll be ok. We'll make it ok".

Stifling a sob, the older of the two turned around, hugging his brother close. He hated feeling this helpless and confused.

"I–it's all your fault, damn you! Fuck you! Fuck you!" he pointed at his belly in anger.

"V–ve! D–don't curse at the baby!"

Romano wasn't going to let this go anytime soon. How dare Spain put him in this difficult situation? He was going to cut off his 'little friend' after getting rid of Germany's, for sure.

Pregnant, and at the same time! They had probably made it happen, fucking bastards, maybe they'd found the whole idea comical!

Allowing anger to take place of his uncertainty –it was a much better emotion to feel, at least at this point– Romano growled under his breath.

Italy let out a soft sigh, feeling his brother's muscles tense up. At least he wasn't feeling the waves of pain and hesitation roll through him anymore. It was good.

"I'll call Arthur, ve~" he wiped away the tears that were rolling down his chin, detaching from his brother but still holding one of his hands. "He's the one with the magic, maybe he'll know what to do with _Dottor_ Pinza… it's going to be tricky…"

"You have his number?" Romano grunted, wiping away his own tears. "Call the English prick then, damn it".

Smiling up at him, albeit hesitantly, Italy dialled England's number.

The moment the other nation picked up the receiver, growling something about 'pesky annoying people who don't fucking get they shouldn't call all the time', Italy chirped out a greeting and started explaining.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**SOY:** hello ^^ that was chapter four. I hope you liked! Please comment!

_Dottor/dottore (Italian)_ – doctor (we cut the ending 'e' next to the name of the Doctor because it flows better grammatically)

_Si svegli (Italian)_ – wake up (formal)


	5. Chapter 05

**SOY:** woo, another chapter! We get to see the news of the pregnancy spread with the grapevine ^^ have fun!

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Rating**: K+.

**Warnings:** mpreg (male x male pregnancy), some crack and angst, depending on the situation, fluff.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Impossible is nothing, if you're Italian**

**Chapter 05**

England cleared his throat.

"Uuh… yeah, sure, I can come over and drop a charm on the doctor, of course…" the Englishman scratched his ear, looking to the side embarrassedly. "Congratulations, by the way… I guess a celebration is in order?"

He'd been quite surprised to have the Italian brothers call him as they had never truly been close, and even during their political meetings, they had barely talked with each other, but he was the only Nation they knew that had actual magic, and it was obvious they'd want him to help.

Well, there was Norway, but the Italies didn't know him much either, whilst they at least had some past in common with England.

Besides, England was one of the few nations born by something that could be close to human means –his mother had been a Nation, but she had died not long after his birth, and he'd had to live in the wild until France had found him.

Remembering back then, their first meeting, the tentative friendship they had shared, with France being a bit of a doting older brother despite them having the same age, even though their territories were different…

He shook himself out from his thoughts, feeling vaguely upset.

"I'll come over later today, if you don't mind," he stated in the receiver, receiving a happy chirp from the younger Italian, then he ended the call.

He would need his special ritual clothes, of course. And a few more things.

Turning around, he pointed a finger at one of his faeries, who had been happily floating all around him, humming in happiness, excited at the news. "Could you bring me some Lethe's bramble, please? I think there should be some in the cupboard…"

The faerie floated away, and England picked up the phone again.

He didn't know why he was making this call, but he was.

"_Allo_? This is your gorgeous Francis speaking, who is it?"

England cringed, trying to shake the sudden desire to shut the phone –unfortunately, for how much he disliked France's attitude, it was inevitable like a tsunami.

"Francis" he started, clearing his throat "I just received an interesting phone call by Feliciano," he sat down, fingering the phone's cord absently. "You will _never_ believe what happened".

"_Angleterre_? Is that you?" England could hear it in France's voice… the gloating tone at knowing that England had called him.

He inwardly seethed.

"The Italian brothers are pregnant," he stated bluntly, smirking at the following silence.

His smirk disappeared after a whole minute of silence.

"Oi, frog –you alive?"

"Mon _Dieu_," France's voice sounded breathless. "This is… so very unexpected," there was a low, amused chuckle. "I wouldn't have thought young Ludwig would… an, I must congratulate little Feli and Lovi, then!"

England rolled his eyes, but inwardly cringed at the mental images. France sounded so disbelieving, yet he should have known better, as he'd been there when Italy had loudly announced that he and Germany were having sex not even three months before.

"Listen, frog, don't make me think back my offer. I'm going to Italy to take care of a doctor who found out. If you want… you can come with me".

He'd of course offered because he knew how Italy and France were close.

"… is this a date, _mon chèr Angleterre_?"

Crimson and spluttering, England hissed at the phone. "N–no! Of course not! D–don't get your pants in a knot, idiotic frog eater!"

"Come on, Arthur…" the way France rolled his name on his tongue should have been deemed illegal, damn it.

"I just thought you would want to know, since Feli is your younger brother," he paused, then coughed. "I didn't do it for you! But you'll keep the two brothers away from me whilst I work, so don't bitch at me!"

"Sure, sure, whatever you say," France chuckled, shaking his head.

England could picture him smiling and posing in his mind, and it was not a pretty picture.

Slamming the phone down, England felt it'd been a very wrong choice to call the Frenchman.

Definitely a wrong choice.

…

Spain bit his lower lip as he sped up on the highway, barely giving any attention to the road and instead trying to guess where his darling South Italy would be.

He had a vague suspicion that he might have decided to go at his younger brother's house (dear, dear cute Ita~), but he'd been there and nobody was at home, not even Germany, and Spain didn't really know where to go.

Where could his dear Romano be?

Suddenly, the tune for the Las Ketchup's song started playing in the car, and he gasped, startled out from his thoughts.

The hell?

Spain's cheeks flushed in shame; he'd never choose such a song as his ringtone! Who did it? Was it Prussia? Spain's eyes narrowed in anger, knowing that next time he saw his friend, he would–

Shaking his head, he picked up the phone. It wasn't the time to plan torture, after all.

"_¿Diga?_" humming, Spain moved to the side of the road, careful not to drive whilst at the phone.

"It is me, Francis!"

Spain smiled. He could ask France to help with planning torture for Prussia!

"_¿_Francis~ _que pasa_?"

"I just _had_ to call and congratulate you!"

"Huuh~?" Antonio blinked, looking at the passing cars at his left with a frown. "Did something happen that I know nothing about?"

Not that it happened often, but sometimes he _was_ the last one to know things. Usually France was quick to call him to gloat, but Spain didn't quite mind as they thought.

Things like these were not important at–

"Arthur just called me, congratulations! You're going to be a _papa_!"

Spain blinked. Then blinked again.

His brain slowly started working around France's words.

"… come again?"

…

Prussia had been hiding in the bush ever since Austria had returned home from his trip with Germany (by the pile of books under his _bruder_'s arms, Prussia had awesomely deduced they had been to the book store), busy spying… well, busy deigning himself to take notice of Austria's cooking inside the house, when his phone suddenly started ringing.

Quickly taking it out from his pants, Prussia let out a curse, hoping its sound hadn't busted his position to the Austrian prick.

"Who fucking–"

"Gilbert! Gilbert! I'm going to be a daddy~!"

Prussia blinked, all his animosity vanishing. "Who's there… Antonio?"

The excited voice on the other end belonged to Spain, but Prussia didn't think he would call him, not after switching his ringtone with that other song.

Maybe Spain wasn't angry…?

"Of course I'm Antonio, Gilbert! Listen, listen! My Lovi is pregnant~"

Prussia tilted his head to the side, trying to wrap his brain around what Spain had just yelled.

"Uhm… what do I have to do with that?" he asked in the end, rolling his eyes.

So what if one of his best friends was going to be a daddy? So yes, of course, he was too awesome not to care –he would probably spoil the baby a while frigging lot!

"Feli is pregnant, too~ you're going to be an uncle! Uncle Gil~" Prussia snorted, smirking as he pictured the Spaniard bouncing around happily. "Sounds nice, does it?"

The world stopped around him as Prussia was suddenly assaulted by a thousand mental images of an adorable Italy pregnant. Because of Germany. His brother Germany. Pregnant with a baby!

His brain conjured up mental pictures of a mini Italy with Germany's blond hair running around, and his cheeks turned crimson.

"S–so cute…" he muttered, hiding his face with one hand.

It would be awesome. For real! A baby Italy he could spoil!

Prussia finally resurfaced from his heaven imaginary world of himself doting upon preggie Ita, only to hear Spain ranting on the other end of the line. Spain was clearly terribly excited, but the Prussian ex–Nation, although happy, didn't really care for him right now.

He had to go to Italy~ and hold him close and congratulate!

Babies!

With a proud smirk, Prussia shut the call off…

"_**You**_!"

… only to froze as he felt the dreadful presence of Hungary right behind him.

Slowly, so very slowly, he turned around, and barely escaped (with his awesome reflexes!) an incoming frying pan.

Yet, he couldn't stop smiling.

"Eli~" uncaring for the danger of a returning blow, Prussia wrapped his arms around Hungary's neck, clinging at her.

He was far too happy not to share the wonderful news!

Hungary turned crimson, her left eyebrow twitching madly, "s–stay away! Or do you want a–"

"Feliciano is pregnant~!"

The frying pan, that had been already arching up high for another blow, froze. Slowly, so very slowly, she lowered it, and stared at Prussia with a strange glint in her eyes that made him back away from her in a rush.

"Excuse me… what?"

Behind her, leaning out from the window, Austria too was blinking in surprise.

…

Liechtenstein gently watered another pot of flowers, humming softly under her breath and checking to see which vase she should get next, when she heard someone calling her name.

"Lili!"

The sweet girl had barely enough time to turn around that Hungary downed on her like a hawk, after having sped up from Austria's house all the way up to Switzerland; Liech let out a small gasp, but thankfully the older Nation stopped a few inches from her, panting hart, cheeks flushed and eyes glinting strangely.

Liechtenstein lowered her gaze, flustered, and noticed that Hungary was holding a camera in her hand. She hummed, finally understanding.

"W–what is it, Eli?" she asked meekly, used to the brash, strong attitude of the older girl but still a bit put off by being the centre of her attention.

"Feli and Love have been knocked up!" Hungary announced, straightening her back and patting her skirt. "Perfect material, and so close to us, too! We have a few delicious months ahead of us, Lili!" her eyes were shining in happiness as she twirled around, coming to grasp Liechtenstein's hands in her own. "Just think about all the sweet, gay action we'll see first person!"

Cheeks turning suddenly red as embarrassing but enticing pictures flashed through her mind, Liech smiled. "Ah~ that's splendid! My camera is up in my bedroom, just wait for me… I want to give my congratulations to Feliciano!"

"Congratulations to Feliciano–kun…?"

Slowly stepping out from the corner of Switzerland's house, Japan blinked. He was holding something in his hands that resembled a bit too much a fluffy white and yellow dress. Something coming straight out of a Heidi episode.

"Why are you going to congratulate with Feliciano–kun?"

Before the news of Italy and Romano's pregnancy, Hungary would have regarded the sight of a determined, closet pervert as Japan stalking Switzerland to act upon his secret kinks as something hot and worth pursuing, but now, she didn't really care.

"Feli got knocked up by dear Ludwig, Kiku! It's a splendid news, don't you agree?"

Japan's fingers clenched tightly around the rims of the dress. With eyes suddenly wider, he stepped forwards hesitantly, a million questions rolling through his head but not daring to ask any.

After a few seconds, under the eager stares of Liechtenstein and Hungary, he swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up at them.

"… mpreg?"

Hungary nodded eagerly, a huge smile on her lips.

"But… if I can ask…" Japan's cheeks covered with a light shade of pink, "how is this possible?"

Liechtenstein and Hungary glanced at each other. They didn't know Japan much (though Hungary shared quite a few common interests with him), but both were aware that he'd been under isolation for a lot of time.

Maybe he did really not know?

"Sometimes it happens," Liech admitted, flustered. "Sometimes, it's not just… popping out from nowhere. Though it has been a while since this last happened… was it Arthur?"

"Uhm, no, I think the last one was Greece," Hungary interjected, making Japan fidget at the mention of the other Nation. "Before him, Egypt and then England".

"I see," Japan considered this for a moment.

That he knew of, both himself and Korea had appeared from the earth, not by birth, and the same could be said for Taiwan and Hong Kong. As for China, he couldn't know… he was way older than he was.

He never did think of it, either. It was a very interesting notion, though he should have caught on previously, with Italy's continuous mentions of 'Grandpa Rome'…

With vaguely trembling hands –he couldn't believe he had available something like that– he folded the dress he was holding and placed it in the bag he retrieved from behind the corner of the house.

"I will join you two to see Feliciano–kun in a while, but I think I should make a call first, if you don't mind" he murmured, mind already running a thousand miles per second.

He retreated quickly, bowing and rounding the corner before starting to run, cheeks turning even more red. This was _good_.

Hungary chuckled, shaking her head. "Let's go Lili, I want to get there before Gilbert!"

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**SOY:** so, what did you think? :D

_Allo (French)_ – Hello (on the phone)

_Mon chér (French)_ – My dear

_Angleterre (French)_ – England

_¿ Diga? (Spanish) – _Hello (on the phone) (though it means 'Talk')

_¿Que pasa? (Spanish)_ – What's up?

_Bruder (German) –_ Brother

_Lili_ – the fanon name I also adopted for Liechtenstein. Just so you know, for when she pops up, Belgium will be Belle. Yes, I'm so original.


	6. Chapter 06

**SOY:** longer chapter, not by much but still longer. ^^ please enjoy!

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Rating**: K+.

**Warnings:** mpreg (male x male pregnancy), some crack and angst, depending on the situation, fluff.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Impossible is nothing, if you're Italian**

**Chapter 06**

Germany sighed.

It was quite hard to relax, he thought as he massaged his temple with one hand and turned page with the other, when you were trying to read an entire manual before your lover came back home.

If not read it all, then at least get to the useful parts. He was worried that by when Italy was back, he would still be in his strange mood.

Apparently in the few hours Germany had been in the bookstore, the two Italians had disappeared from the house, going who knows where without even dropping a message to warn him.

It would be granting to the German Nation's nerves, if not for the fact that Italy _never_ left messages to him when he disappeared for a few hours.

Germany was used to it.

Then, his phone started ringing.

The ringtone was one of Rammstein's songs, and Germany gritted his teeth in annoyance; Prussia had messed up with his phone again.

With a wince, Germany flicked it open and answered. "_Hallo_?"

"Ludwig!"

Germany felt all his muscles, including those he didn't know he had, tense up. "_Bruder_," he replied, his tone not giving away his emotions.

Prussia never did call him on the phone unless he wanted something (money, beer, wurst…), needed something (money, beer, wurst), or was chased by someone because he owed them money (which he'd used for beer and wurst).

Or when he was drunk out of his mind and wanted to rant about when 'Germany was li~ttle li~ttle and s'very cute~', which usually ended with him being very embarrassed.

"What do you wan–"

"The awesome me wanted to be the first to congratulate you!" Prussia started laughing loudly, and Germany lowered the phone's mic volume. "I'll be there as soon as possible, and we can go out to drink! Well, when the English prick finishes with sweet Feli, we might invite them too, no? Are you at home? Is Feli with you?"

Germany massaged the brink of his nose, groaning. His brother was making absolutely no sense at all, but he didn't sound _drunk_, either.

What was going on?

"_Brud_–"

"Ah, I can't wait! I'm sure he'll be as awesome as me, you'd better call 'im Frederick!"

"Glibert… you're not making any s–" the phone started vibrating, alerting Germany that someone else was trying to reach him. "Wait, there's someone on the other line".

He pressed the button to put Prussia on hold and accepted the incoming call, wondering if it was his superior calling.

That would be truly–

"_Hallo_?"

"Ludwig! I just heard the news from Iggy–Iggy! Hahaha~" America's boisterous voice made Germany lower his mic volume some more. "Isn't it awesome? I'll be over there for the party! After all, who wouldn't want the hero to come? I'll bring fireworks, of course, and… wait, would those scare Feli? Maybe it's better to ask him later on… call you back later! Haha!"

Since when did America call him?

And he mentioned a party. What party? Did Italy decide to have another party at his house? It wasn't the first time it happened, but at least he'd only invited Hungary and Poland last time… with America here, it would end up… a nightmare.

And of course, just like last time, it would be Germany the one to clean up most of the things. He didn't want to!

There again, Austria had said to treat him nicely, had he? Maybe a party would cheer him up and…

"Ludwig!" Prussia's voice made Germany aware that closing the call with America had opened the one with his brother again.

"I'm sorry, _bruder_, Alfred called over, and–" the phone vibrated again. Germany's left eye twitched. "_Hallo_?"

"Ludwig, _amigo_, did Feli come back home yet?"

Germany blinked.

"Antonio?"

"It's me," the Spaniard replied with a soft hum. "So, is Feli at home?"

"Uh, no, he's not. Why? Did something happen?"

"_Mi cariño_ Lovi has yet to come home, and given the situation, I though better to call ya!" Spain paused. "Francis said maybe they would go at their house, so if you're there, will you wait for me? If they're not home by when I'm there, we can search together! Though by then, I guess Arthur will be finished with his magic".

Germany felt the incoming headache kick his temple again. Why was everybody so out of it?

"Antonio, you're also not making sense… what did you say about Arthur again? Why is Francis involved? And wait, what situation are you talking ab–"

The phone vibrated yet again, and Germany cursed at his luck. He shouldn't have installed so many free lines.

"Antonio, wait just a moment… _hallo_?"

"_Mon chèr Allemagne_, my most heartfelt congratulations! I'm coming over as quickly as possible, but I had to wait for _Angleterre_ here, and he's been difficult so far…" there was a curse in the background that Germany correctly addressed as being England's. "He insisted he had to 'dress up' for the occasion, you see…"

Germany really _did_ want to slam his head against the wall by now, but refrained.

"Listen, why are you coming over, I don't think I–"

The phone vibrated _again_.

"_Hallo_?"

"_Bruder_! Don't ignore me!" and Germany could _hear_ his brother's pout through the phone. "I was having a serious conversation here!"

With a startle, Germany stared at the phone. "Gilbert, you didn't just occupy two of my phone lines, did you" he groaned.

"Of course I did! You were ignoring me!"

Germany shut off both of his brother's calls, then reopened his connection to France. He breathed deeply, listening to the insults on the other line for a moment.

"I told you, you can't go to the doctor dressed up in your best Dark Magic clothes!" France was yelling, his anger bringing out more of his French tone.

In the background, Germany could hear England's protest. "Of course I have to. I'm making an effort here, don't forget it… Feliciano will appreciate! _He_ was the one calling me!"

Germany, who had by then approached the nearest wall and was preparing to slam his head against it, paused. Italy had _called_ England? He didn't even _know_ Italy had England's number to begin with.

"So is there really going to be a party?" he asked, almost conversationally.

He was a bit angered. It meant Italy had not consulted him, but there again, they were coming over at _Italy's_ house, not at his own. Besides, with their recent 'fight' maybe Italy was just trying not to bother him…

"A party?" Francis hummed appreciatively. "Yes, a party is expected, given the situation… you should be overly delighted, but there again, that's _Allemagne_ for you… so composed, so proper… _Angleterre_, you should try to mimic him and–"

There was suddenly a loud noise, which sounded exactly like someone (England) punching the someone holding the phone (France) on the head, possibly the mouth or the eye. The call fell shut.

"What _was_ all of this?" he wondered.

The phone vibrated again, reminding him Antonio was still on the line, waiting, and pressed on the button.

"Good morning, Ludwig-san, I just had to call you…"

_Japan?_

'_The hell is wrong with everyone today?'_

"Kiku, good morning" he replied, at least glad to hear the calm and composed voice of the once ally. There would be no–nonsense with him. "Is this for the party?" he asked then, frowning.

A pause on the other end.

"You would call this a party, _ne_…" Japan seemed to ponder over it for a moment. "I'm coming over, but I deemed right to call first so you would expect me… also, I called Yao-san. He's the oldest so far, he might know a few things more than we all do".

Germany blinked. China? 'Know a few things more than they all did'? The hell?

"Seriously, Kiku, I really don't know what you are all talking about. First _bruder_, and Alfred talking about a party, and then Francis, Arthur and Antonio, and now you… I'm sitting here, in Feliciano's house, and I don't get a single thing!"

"Oh, so you were not… Feliciano-kun didn't… _oh,_" Japan stilled, and apparently at least one of them _understood_. Germany felt sarcastic and decided he had every right to be. "You'd better… talk to him first. I will do my best to prevent the others from reaching you before you had time to talk things out".

The line went suddenly off, leaving Germany feeling a bit sorry for himself, and not just a bit off.

He needed to wait for Italy to come back, it seemed.

…–…–…–…

"Doctor? Is everything ok inside?" the nurse knocked on the door again, wondering why the two brothers were keeping the doctor so much.

No answer from inside, apart a loud squeal.

She was growing worried.

"Doctor? Doctor, open the door…" she tried to pull, but the door appeared locked from the inside. Doctor Pinza never locked the door. "There are other patients waiting…"

No answer again. This was definitely unprofessional from the man, and he'd never done something like that before… he was always so strict and would never hold some patient this long, unless there _was_ something wrong…

She looked over to the remaining patients waiting to be visited, and bit her lip; in a normal situation, she'd either ask them to come back later, or another day entirely, or simply ask them to be… well, patient.

But the doctor was taking _so_ much time…

"Hello, we are searching for Mr. Doctor".

At the greeting, said in a heavily accented Italian, the nurse looked up, meeting two positively good looking guys moving towards the front door. One of them was tall, with blond hair tied in a ponytail and a blinding smile… whilst the other…

Her eyes widened. The other was dressed like a Satanist!

"Uh… y–you…" she pointed in shock at the guy clad in a cloak, who also had the hugest eyebrows she'd ever seen, and backed away. "T–the doctor is busy now, you can't go in!" _'Besides, the door is locked'_ she added to herself.

"This won't be a problem at all, _ma chérie_," the one dressed normally stated, winking at her and causing her cheeks to redden. "But do tell me your name, you're such a beauty…"

As she spluttered, falling right into France's flirting, England reached for the doctor's door and lightly knocked twice.

"Ita… uh, Feliciano, Lovino, it's Arthur here, open up" he hissed, throwing a look at the girl Francis was keeping busy. Yes, sometimes the Frenchman was quite useful.

The door opened with a soft click, and England sneaked inside, leaving Francis to cover up for him.

The sight that greeted him was quite unexpected indeed –the Italian brothers were sitting next to a very enraged and very much tied up doctor, who was sputtering and fidgeting, mouth covered with tape.

"Uh…" England decided not to comment, and a moment later he had an armful of Italian.

"Arthu~r, thanks for coming!" Feliciano hugged him and started bouncing from one foot to the other. "The doctor kept bothering us and Lovi knocked him out, but then he woke up…"

"Yes, I can… see that," England nodded, cracking his knuckles and getting closer.

It was better to get started and solve this matter, then they could leave and go back home.

The doctor saw his clothes and tried to shy away, face paling considerably, and muttering something that was completely muffled by the tape.

"Well, thankfully it's just him, it won't be a problem to make him forget," the Englishman assured the brothers. The older one scoffed but nodded in thanks.

"Let's get on with it, I'm hungry," he huffed.

Italy nodded, curl bouncing up and down.

The green flying bunny that always followed England around popped out from the depths of England's cloak, holding the Lethe's bramble in his mouth; Italy and Romano's eyes followed what must have looked like a flying plant until it fell into England's stretched hand.

They still remained silent, considerably impressed.

"Now, as for the ritual…" the English Nation muttered, ready to start a complicated, huge and lengthy ritual to call forth the forces he controlled, making the entire room fall into darkness, with–

"Can you do it the quick way?" Italy moved forwards, apparently recognising the telltale signs that England would take a while if he got started now. "I'm tired, annoyed and I want to leave this place, ve~".

England looked up, ready to tell Italy that things would take time, but something in those brown, open eyes made him stop in his tracks and nod, compliant. He didn't know what, but he was sure he would regret it if he denied his request.

With a sigh, he flicked open a lighter, plucked a leaf from the bramble and held it onto the flame until it started burning; a soft white flame burned through the leaf, and a creamy smoke came out from it.

England stepped closer to the man, who looked like he was going to have a heart attack, and waved the burning leaf under his nose.

A second later, the human's eyes dulled over and his head lolled back. He was fast asleep.

Italy and Romano glanced at each other in quiet surprise.

"… that's it?" South Italy felt somewhat annoyed.

"… yes," England was equally annoyed and got suddenly defensive. "I knew I should have used the ritual… more pleasing to the eye, more…"

He continued babbling on, quickly throwing away the burned leaf into the bin and hiding the rest of the bramble inside his cloak.

"Ve~ can we go now?"

With a deep sigh, England nodded and opened the door, peering out. France had somehow convinced the nurse to move to the entrance, and England didn't even want to know how he'd managed that.

"Out," he hissed for the two Italians to go first. They had caused quite the ruckus, but it would be necessary to make the nurse forget, too.

Quickly pointing at the nurse's desk to his flying friend, he gave it the burnt remains of the leaf. The green bunny nodded with a soft sound, and flapped its wings, putting himself into position. It was easy, and nobody would see it, either.

England hummed as they got out. France was waiting for them, pointing the nurse back to her desk with a spin, allowing the three to scuttle outside, though a few patients stared at them with furrowed eyebrows.

"_Fratellone_!" Italy tackled the French Nation with a smile, and the older man hugged him back, patting his head and lightly kissing his forehead in a show of affection.

"_Petit_ Feli, congratulations," he murmured, clearly happy. "You must be overjoyed, _non_?"

"_Sì_!"

"Listen, it's better if we get away from here now, we'll make the proper ceremonies once safe," England scoffed, pushing the three towards their cars.

France grunted but jumped into England's car, whilst Romano got into his brother's. Italy looked over to the two nations as he moved out from the parking.

"Where are you doing now?" France called out as England followed the Italies' car. "I called Antonio, so he'll be surely waiting you at your house".

Romano froze, his expression turning murderous.

"Y–you told stupid Antonio? _How dare you_?" Not that he cared, of course, b–but… he would have liked to tell Spain on his own… "I'm… I'm going to _kill_ you!"

In a flash, he was standing on top of his seat, ready to jump high from the car and onto France, but Italy reacted equally fast, wrapping his arms around his brother's waist. "W–wait brother~! Don't!"

France's body snapped back, more threatened than he should have been, and looked around frantically, trying to find a scapegoat.

"P–_petit_ Lovi… I…" his eyes fell on a rather disgruntled England. "it was Arthur who called me! It's his fault!"

England let out a choked gasp, elbowing France in the ribs; Romano's left eye twitched, trying fruitlessly to get out from Italy's hold, hissing and spitting all the while.

"I'll have your _cocks_ on my bedroom _stall_!" he yelled, cheeks flushed in fury.

"Calm down, Lovi~! Ve~!"

France and England had never felt such a murderous glare ever before, but at least Italy was helping them–

"You can hurt them when we get home, while I make some pasta~" Italy continued as if nothing was wrong, much to the two older Nations' chagrin.

Romano refused to give in, thrashing even more in Italy's arms, "going home can wait! I'm going to–"

A wave of demonic aura hit him, and Romano stopped, slowly twisting around to stare at his brother's face. Italy was smiling –but in a very Russia–like way, creepy and dark and…

"Lovi~? I am really, _really_ hungry, and I'm _tired_, and I want to see Ludwig… so I ask you… _won't you wait till we're home_?"

Swallowing his sudden fear, and feeling all his rage disappear, Romano slumped into his brother's hold and crossed his arms, pouting; Italy smiled and nodded happily, the dark aura completely gone, and settled back on the driver's seat whilst South Italy threw a seething glare at the quivering duo in the other car.

"As I thought, ve~" Italy giggled. "Good brother~"

The two cars strolled down the highway and reached Italy's house without a fuss, despite the nerve–wrecking way Italy was driving. France was used to it, but England couldn't take his eyes away from Italy's car as he remained at a safely distance from him all the time.

'_Italians are truly scary when they want to…'_

The four parked their cars and walked towards Italy's house, with Italy skipping happily and Romano throwing scathing glances at France and England, who inconspicuously kept the same distance they had when in the car.

As they were crossing the next–to–last bridge, Italy brightened up, recognising the figure of Japan waiting for him on the other end.

"Kiku~!"

Japan had no time to prepare himself, as he was tackled and hugged close, and he flushed crimson, flailing his arms around in shock; as he realised what was happening, he calmed down, knowing that the best way to get out of such things was to let Italy hug him until he was satisfied.

Awkwardly, he patted the other Nation's shoulder.

"Elizaveta–san and Lili–chan happened to be talking about your current situation while I was around, so I deemed paying you a visit was in order, Feliciano–kun… congratulations!"

"Oh~ so you know? You know!" Italy wrapped his arms around the Japanese Nation and squeezed. "Thank you Kiku~"

"Don't mention it," Japan replied, smiling. Then, with a more subdued tone "I had to tie up a few others in order to give you privacy with Ludwig–san, but… oh, well".

"Ve~?"

"N–nothing! Ludwig–san is waiting for you inside, you should go in now…"

"Ve!"

Romano turned sharply towards his brother, lips twitching upwards in a feral smirk.

"The potato bastard is still here? Splendid, absolutely splendid! I'm going to show him a pair of beautiful shoes that will be perfect for taking a deeper look at Venezia's canals…"

Once again, Italy looked at him, smiling sweetly, and pressed both of his hands on South Italy's shoulders. "Lovi~ I'll promise you something~ if I hear that you've been giving Ludwig your attention, I'll have _fratellone_ Antonio receive by mail a certain trunk…" as Romano's eyes widened comically, Italy's smile turned vaguely predatory–like. "Yes, the one in the basement. _Yes_, I know it's there…"

South Italy's face turned ghostly white, much to England and France's shock (Japan simply looked at them, vaguely curious), and nodded, then asked something in a low, hissing tone. Italy replied with a happy chirp, nodding.

France and England suddenly felt dread come upon them as Romano turned towards them, an evil glint in his eyes. "_Oi, fottuti stronzi,_ I'm all yours!"

"Oh, _merde…_"

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**SOY:** so, what did you think? :D

_Hallo (German)_ – hello on the phone

_Bruder (German)_ – brother

_Amigo (Spanish)_ – friend

_Mi cariño (Spanish)_ – my dear, my sweet (endearing)

_Mon chèr Allemagne (French) –_ my dear Germany

_Angleterre (French)_ – England

_Ma chèrie (French)_ – my dear (feminine)

_Petit (French)_ – little

_Fratellone (Italian)_ – big brother

_Fottuti stronzi (Italian)_ – fucking bastards

_Merde (French) –_ shit


	7. Chapter 07

**SOY:** sorry for the long delay with this fic, but other projects took over, then a light depression and writer's block hit and I didn't want to post anything. I was cured, though!

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Rating**: K+.

**Warnings:** mpreg (male x male pregnancy), some crack and angst, depending on the situation, fluff.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Impossible is nothing, if you're Italian**

**Chapter 07**

Germany didn't know what to think.

Italy had opened the front door with a pacific, serene smile on his face that didn't quite suit him (it was far too calm to be the Italy he knew and loved), and the moment he saw Germany sitting on his couch, he smiled even more and waved at him.

He didn't seem to have anything he could need to make a party, either. Germany was feeling a bit confused.

Standing up, since it didn't look like Italy was going to come near him anytime soon –was Italy still angry? Then, why was he smiling? That was something puzzling– Germany moved towards him, and passing by the window he glanced out.

He thought he'd seen France's head hiding in the bushes in front of the house, but maybe he was just seeing things –though, hadn't Japan said England would come, too?

Germany let out a relieved sigh –there was no sign of Romano anywhere either, and that was actually a good thing.

"Ludwig~" Italy still didn't jump him, and that worried Germany even more.

"Uh… Feliciano… are you… are you ok?"

Italy blinked and moved forwards, holding up Germany's hand into his own, intertwining their fingers together, and instantly Germany's fears were soothed by Italy's warm smile.

No, his lover wasn't angry anymore, and the thought made him finally relax.

He rubbed Italy's palm with his fingers and brought his hand up to gently kiss it, making Italy giggle.

Once again, Germany's heart sped up, reminding him exactly how much he loved this silly Italian Nation, that made him feel like every moment spent with him was special.

"So, what about the party?"

Yes, Germany was really good at ruining the moments.

Looking up, closing his eyes in that familiar confused expression Germany had long since grown accustomed to (and ended up loving), Italy pouted. "What party, ve~? Are we going to have a party?"

Germany's left eyebrow twitched. "I was under the impression that there would be a party, so…"

Italy's face brightened up considerably at his words. "That'd be splendid!" he chirped, tugging Germany towards the sofa. "I want some coffee, ve~ want some too?"

Germany's suspicion returned full force, but he could never ever reject a coffee offer, especially Italy's. Italian coffee was one of his favourite brands, and his lover knew it.

Before he could even think about demanding Italy to finally clear up his confusion –the calls he'd received were especially bugging him– the other nation bounced out of the sitting room and into the kitchen, forcing Germany to flop down on the sofa and wait for him.

He didn't like the situation at all, but at least he knew that the news were not going to be bad –otherwise, that expression of love and calm in Italy's eyes would be absent… which was, indeed, upsetting, but at least Germany wasn't _truly_ worried.

When the Italian nation finally emerged from the kitchen again, bringing with him two cups of coffee, Germany accepted one with a polite nod and waited until his lover sat down on the couch next to him, then straightened up.

He wanted answers.

"What is the meaning of this, Feliciano?" he demanded, looking stern. He sipped the coffee to calm his nerves down. "Tell me this instant… without spacing out!"

It didn't make sense –Italy was too calm, yet he looked like he was brimming with energy, when only earlier the same day, he'd been feeling bad…

Much to Germany's surprise, Italy's apparent calm shifted into vague embarrassment, flushing red and fidgeting slightly, holding onto his coffee and trying to sort through his thoughts. "_Ecco, vedi_… there is something I need to tell you, Ludwig…"

"Please spit it out," the blond Nation ordered, growing uneasy the more fidgety Italy looked.

"Uh… well… I…" Italy glanced around, biting on his index. "It's a bit complicated…"

The two fell into a tense silence, with Germany staring Italy down, trying to force him to talk, and the Italian nation unable to find the right way to approach the subject.

Italy was… overjoyed about his pregnancy. It wasn't just becoming a father (or a mommy?), as he'd never thought about that ever before, but the idea that there was something –_someone_– growing inside him was thrilling.

He was afraid, yes, because his brother's fears were also his own, but he was also happy. This was something he shared with his Germany, and the thought was enough to give him strength… but they had never even entertained the thought of making a family… in the life of a Nation, things like that always came second after taking care of their nation and their people, following orders and doing damage control –relationships could work, there was time for love and dates and such, as long as both Nations believed in their union, but something as delicate as a baby…

Few nations ever thought about it, regardless of gender.

As he fidgeted on the couch, trying to find a way to explain all that to his love, Italy was suddenly reminded exactly how young Germany really was, compared to most of the other Nations.

Germany, age–wise, was certainly not the youngest, but he was young enough not to have faced anything like this ever before; his mind was devoted and focused to work and war, following orders and approaching everything with rationality (the opposite of how Italy was, actually), and it was already hard enough for Italy to make him more open in their relationship, make him smile and loosen up…

How would someone like him react to a baby?

Maybe he would think that since he sired the child, he'd have to help Italy take care of the baby once born simply out of obligation, or he'd be afraid… with his mindset so enclosed in determinate routes, just like back during the war, maybe Germany wouldn't take well the news of a baby at all.

Italy knew that his love for Germany was strong (enough to send him to war… Italy had joined sides only because of his growing feelings for the German Nation, after all), but there was no way he was going to be able to choose if it ever came down to that.

If Germany needed time to accept the baby, if ever, Italy was not going to deny it to him, but…

But if Germany ended up unable to accept his pregnancy, Italy would not be able… would _never_ choose between them; it would not be fair to either of them.

Thinking like that, Italy found it hard to talk.

'_Ve~ maybe I could just tell him later, but…'_ Italy shook his head. No, he couldn't wait. Almost all the other Nations knew by now of their pregnancy, and they would surely pop around to talk to him and his brother…

And Germany needed to know it from him, not through someone else.

'_Grandpa… lend me some of your courage… per favore…'_ it couldn't be too bad, could it?

"I went to be doctor this morning," he started, his voice strangely emotionless. One of his arms unconsciously wrapped around his midsection, almost as if preparing for the wrong kind of reaction and trying to give himself some reassurance. "With Lovi," he added.

Germany's worry suddenly spiked up once more.

A doctor? As in, a human doctor?

"Feliciano–" Germany's hand reached out for his shoulder, but stopped in midair, retreating.

"He found out what was wrong with us," Italy continued, knuckles turning white with the desire to run, yet he managed to stand still.

This was _Germany_. He had to have faith in him.

"Feliciano… please, is there something I should know?"

Looking into his lover's eyes, seeing how worried he looked, Italy gulped down his fright and nodded slowly.

"Ludwig, ve~ I'm… I'm pregnant…"

…–…–…–…

"Now, Lovino, please, reconsider…" England backed away from the Italian, gulping down his uneasiness and trying to hide his fear.

He couldn't admit of being afraid of one of the Italian Nations, after all! He'd shame himself in front of everybody else if–

"_Petit_ Lovi, _je suis désolé_! Besides, it's all Arthur's fault!"

"H–hey! Frog! Stop placing the blame on me! I helped you two come out from the doctor's office! Is this how you thank me?"

Romano was already savouring having France and England at his mercy, pleading as he pounded them to the ground, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling his back against a familiar chest.

"_Mi cariño_~!"

Romano's cheeks turned completely red as he recognised Spain's voice close to his ear. "A–Antonio–bastard! L–let me go! I have to kick their asses!"

Spain didn't look like he was going to comply anytime soon, and France decided this was the perfect time to run somewhere safe; grabbing England's elbow, he tugged the other Nation behind the house.

England peered from the corner, wanting to see what would happen.

"Don't say things like these~ you have to stay calm now, or it'll be bad for _mi niño_…" Spain chuckled, still holding Romano close, then he started kissing the Italian man's cheeks, until he reached his lips.

Romano looked like he was going to explode.

With a happy giggle, Spain groped all over Romano's stomach, going as far as to roll him around and flop down on his knees, rubbing his chin against the bulge that was going to be their baby.

"S–stop it, damn you!" cheeks glowing red, South Italy tried without avail to push his lover away by punching repeatedly on his head.

He didn't mind Spain's affectionate attentions _usually_ (though he would never tell that to him), but there were others around, and Japan was staring at them with curiosity and flushed cheeks and if that wasn't embarrassing, then nothing else was.

"Why should I? you're my adorable Lovi, and this is my adorable child~"

"I–it's not y–yours! Hands off! Damn you!"

"Wha~t? Of course it is mine, unless you're going to tell me you were cheating on me, Lovi~" Spain giggled, and Romano's cheeks turned the reddest colour ever.

"S–stupid! The hell are you saying? I'd… I'd never… with someone else…" Romano looked to the side, fingers curling around Spain's hair and tugging at it. "B–but… stupid Antonio! My belly is not a teddy bear!"

Yet he didn't push him away anymore, and the Spaniard simply smiled brightly at him, stopping his rubbing to take a deep, contented breath.

On the other side, beneath the soft skin of his Romanito's belly, there was something growing –a new life, born from the both of them– that one day would come out, and Spain would be able to hold them in his arms…

He was happy. The happiness was bubbling up from the depths of his heart, rolling through his body and making him want to laugh out loud.

He was going to be a father. Was there anything better than that? A family.

A little kid of his own, someone whom he could teach everything he knew… hold up an axe, eat tomatoes, harvest them, have a siesta together with him…

Settling down… Spain had never thought anything like that before.

He'd been through pirates, inquisitions, wars and civil wars, and now he was finally able to rest enough to have dates and spend some good time with his sweet, cute Romanito, but a baby was something he had never thought of before.

A kid.

He'd never thought about it, but… but he wanted one. He really, truly, utterly wanted a kid with his Romano. He couldn't think of anything better, and suddenly all his thoughts shifted around to include this new realisation, until everything else paled in comparison.

He was going to be a daddy~!

"I'm going to have a baby~" he chirped happily, ear still glued to Romano's belly, even though it was surely far too soon to be able to hear anything from the other end.

"S–stop this madness! You're not going to have a baby! _I am_! Let go!"

"Yes, yes, of course you are, mommy Lovi~" Spain chirped, still lost in a world of his own. "If I let you go, you're going to run and pretend nothing is happening! I can't let you! This is going to involve me, as well, and I won't let you all alone!"

Romano's cheeks turned impossibly red at Spain's passionate words, but he was oddly touched by them, though he didn't want to show it. He was scared, and he knew that he needed someone to help him through this pregnancy. He didn't want to admit it, but he needed comfort, and he was sure his brother would, too.

They'd help each other, yes, but South Italy needed someone else that could be at his side, and even though this bastard Spain was the one who put him in this situation in the first place… at least… at least…

He did trust and… love… Spain. No matter what–

"Wait, what did you call me?"

Spain blinked utterly unaware of exactly what he'd said, but when he looked up he felt a wave of anger directed at him and let Romano go, backing away from him with a smile.

"Romanito…"

"I'll cut your dick _off_ you for what you said! I'm _not_ a woman!"

And then, Spain said the words that condemned him. "Well, but you are the one pregnant with our baby, I guess that makes you the mom, Romanito…"

Spain had no chance to run, because Romano was already jumping on him, hands clenched into fists, and he quickly turned to the side, trying to find someone who could help, and realised that England and France were peering in his direction from behind a wall.

"Oi, Francis! Arthur! For the love of God, help–"

Romano started kicking his ass, and France quickly hid behind the wall again, snickering all the while.

"Lovi! S–stop! Argh! It'll be bad for the _niñooooo_! Loviiiiiiii!"

"That poor Antonio…" England shook his head and winced, daring enough to not cower at the sight of what Romano was doing. "I feel bad for him".

"Then why don't you go and help him, dear Arthur?" France looked up at him, careful to keep himself off sight.

"Are you crazy? I'm not going to get in the middle of _that_," England pointed at the massacre that was happening on the other end. "Ah, I didn't know you could bend your arms like that…"

France, unable to refrain his curiosity, peered again from behind the wall, then winced, regretting his actions as soon as he saw what was going on.

"Little Lovi has Antonio whipped, it seems," he muttered, hiding again.

"In more than one way, I'd add," England shivered, shaking his head. "Do you think we should leave? I haven't had time to congratulate them…"

The click of the front door attracted their attention and they turned around, watching as Italy carefully peered outside, cheeks flushed.

"Ah… _fratellone_ Francis?" he called out hesitantly, looking around. "Are you here?"

With the background of Spain being plummeted to the ground, Italy carefully moved towards where France and England were hiding, waving cheerfully at Japan as he passed by him.

Japan was too busy taking notes on Spain and South Italy's interactions to pay attention to him, though.

"Feli~" France hid his fears well and swept Italy off his feet, holding him close. "What's the problem? How did Ludwig take it?"

"Ve, I think I might need your help~" Italy pouted. "I am afraid I broke Ludwig~"

France and England stared at each other in confusion, then followed Italy into his house, rationalising that if he'd blocked Romano's anger before, now that he needed them he would protect them from him.

Thankfully, Romano was far too busy to care about them. Passing by, England gently steered Japan away from the massacre and led him to Italy's house as well.

As he entered the house after the other three, France threw a look full of pity at Spain and sighed; if Romano didn't want to be a single parent, he would surely stop before killing his lover. There was nothing to fear.

Maybe.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**SOY:** it would be nice if you could drop me a review to tell me if you liked this new chapter ^^ also, please expect a somewhat fluff scene with Spain and Romano in the next one…

_Petit_ Lovi, _je suis désolé (French)_ – Little Lovi, I'm sorry

_Ecco, vedi (Italian)_ – well, you see…

_Mi__ cariño__ (Spanish) _– my dear/my sweet (endearing)

_mi niño_ _(Spanish)_ – my baby/my boy

_Fratellone (Italian)_ – big brother (endearing).


	8. Chapter 08

**SOY:** as promised after the poll on my profile about which fic to update, here you have it –the new instalment of IiNiyI. Though two fics managed to get the same amount of votes, so there shall be an update for Naruto as well, lol. Please enjoy!

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Rating**: K+.

**Warnings:** mpreg (male x male pregnancy), some crack and angst, depending on the situation, fluff.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Impossible is nothing, if you're Italian**

**Chapter 08**

"Come on, I'll treat you to something good," Spain chirped, gently prodding his lover towards the closest gelateria.

Thanks to South Italy's sudden craving for something to eat, he'd stopped kicking at Spain's curled-up body and had demanded him to pay for his food. Bouncing up from the ground as if he hadn't been beaten to submission until seconds before, Spain had nodded and proceeded to coo over his cute Romanito, unable to stop smiling at him.

Romano grunted softly but allowed Spain to hold onto his arm anyway, inwardly rejoicing in the closeness, his mind far too concentrated on what type of ice cream to order to notice how Spain kept inching closer.

"_Buongiorno_," he told the cute _signorina_ at the ice cream parlour, finding his mood somehow lifted at the sight of such a cute girl. "I'd like a size three cup with double gianduja, coffee, chocolate chip and cream".

He glanced to the side to see if Spain was going to bitch about the amount of gelato he was ordering, but met the blissful expression of his lover and grunted in defeat.

Spain ordered his own gelato (a cone with just vanilla) and moved to pay, tugging Romano with him, who was once again too busy to notice how Spain's arm was now wrapped around his hips, holding him protectively against his side.

The girl at the counter glanced at her co-worker and giggled, whilst the other rolled her eyes.

"Have a nice date~" she waved at them as they left.

Romano blinked, finally turning his attention from his ice cream to Spain, who was waving back at her, and frowned.

"How did she know–" his voice fell when he realised the position they were in.

Romano's cheeks burned crimson in shame and embarrassment, but to his outmost surprise, as both of his hands were occupied with his gelato cup (while Spain had intelligently opted for a cone and had an arm free to hug his lover with), there was no way for him to elbow Spain away from him.

His brain started sifting through his options, but since none was acceptable given the situation, he simply pouted and continued eating, pretending to not have noticed.

Besides, it wasn't actually that bad… it felt… kind of… nice…

Spain inwardly cooed at Romano's pout and held him even closer, unmindful of the growls he received… he was too _happy_ to care.

"Say, Lovi dear~" Romano growled, and Spain ignored it. "What are we going to do now? With the baby, I mean~"

At Romano's confused glare, Spain simply smiled, overwhelmed by his cuteness, and pushed his lover to the side of the street, making him sit down on the stairs of a conveniently nearby church.

One could always count on a close by church in Venice.

"We have to give him a name~ I'm sure it'll be a boy~ and we have to buy him a bed, and a pushchair, and–"

"F–first off, it's a cradle, not a bed! Stupid Antonio," South Italy wriggled into Spain's hold and grunted, unable to get away. "A–and then, how do you know if it's a boy? Couldn't it be a little girl?"

"If it's a boy, we'll call him Romualdo!"

"W–what? W–why a Spanish name? It's horrible! I won't name a kid of mine like that!"

Spain held his ice cream for Romano to taste, silencing him momentarily as the younger Nation licked some of his vanilla. "Why not?"

"B–because the baby will have an Italian name, that's why! Just like Feli's son will never have a German name! No member of my family will ever get anything from the potato–bastard side!"

"Lovi…"

With a determined pout, Romano returned to his ice cream, ignoring Spain's attempts to make him turn towards him again.

His brother was his brother, damn it. It was hard already that he had a bit of that stupid Germanic blood into him, and now his little baby would be part German too –that was not right! Germany had so many that could speak his language already, but there were only two Italies.

Of course, he couldn't tell that to the stupid Spain, but he hoped Italy would have more common sense.

"Let Feli make his own decisions in regards to his kid," grabbing South Italy's chin in his hand, Spain forced his lover to turn towards him. "I understand that you're scared–" Romano tried to flinch away, but Spain didn't allow him to. "–but I'm here. I'm not going away. I love you, right? And… and Ludwig loves Feli. We're both here for you two".

Romano hissed and pushed Spain away. "You don't understand anything! You're not the one with–" glancing around at the few people passing on the street, he shook his head and sat down again, fuming silently.

Spain had the uncanny ability to make him lose control, and more so now that he could barely hold onto his hormones.

Damn it. Damn _him_. Damn pregnancy…

"You are not the one with a baby growing inside you!" he was inwardly proud of his low, hissing tone. They were not in the privacy of South Italy's house, or Spain's. They were in the middle of Venice. "How could you understand?"

Intertwining his hand with that of the younger Italian Nation, Spain stared into his eyes with an unusual serious look.

"Maybe I can't understand that, Romanito, but I love you. I'm not going anywhere. Don't try to push me away, it won't work. Allow me to stay at your side, and if I can't make things right, at least… I'll make them bearable for you".

"S… shut up, y–you idiot. You know nothing. I'm already fat and ugly and bitchy and–"

Spain held Romano by his hips and hoisted him up on his lap, ignoring the spluttering and concentrating on his cute lover's flushed cheeks instead, showering kisses on them until Romano finally stopped resisting and pressed his face into Spain's neck, ashamed yet feeling warm and comfortable.

The Spaniard didn't care about people looking. They were definitely not important.

"We'll find the perfect name for our boy, and then we'll buy everything he needs, and you will be nice to Ludwig because you don't want to stress Feli, right? Just like you'll try not to get always so angry…"

One hand caressing his little Italian lover's head, Spain looked up at the beautiful scenery of the city and smiled.

"We'll work together and prepare a beautiful room for the kids at your house, and then one at my house" he continued, taking a deep breath. He could picture everything in his mind. He liked the image. "I'll paint it, and you will buy all sort of things, and I'll teach him how to harvest tomatoes…"

Romano snorted and closed his eyes, feeling the steady heartbeat of the Spaniard vibrate through his frame. The sound was calming and soothing, and Spain's warm arms around his shoulders weren't that bad, either.

But he was allowing this just this once, of course. And not because it was making Spain happy; simply because he was comfortable and that was it.

"I'll teach her Italian," he muttered, refusing to take into consideration that their kid could be a boy. "You… you can teach her Spanish if you want," he added after a moment, flushed crimson.

Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Just maybe, of course.

…–…–…–…

France, England and Japan quickly realised something was wrong with Germany the moment they stepped into Italy's house and noticed the other Nation sitting on the sofa, completely unmoving.

The German's eyes were glazed over and his cheeks were flushed red, and even when France moved closer and attempted his way of greeting people (groping) he got no results (other than England slapping his head and kicking him on the shin).

"Ve~ Ludwig~ Ludwig~" Italy bounced around his lover and waved his hand in front of his eyes.

Still nothing.

England shook his head. "He just found out he is going to be a father, I am sure the news shocked him… uh, just… I guess he'll snap out of it on his own".

Italy glanced at him unsurely, then nodded. "It's not the first time this happens, but if he does not, what do I do?"

"Try seducing him," France replied knowingly. "It might help…"

"_Francis_!" England hissed.

"What?"

"Feliciano–kun… was Ludwig–san aware that male Nations can become pregnant?"

Italy blinked and shook his head, still pouting. "I wanted to tell him that next, but he froze before I could continue~"

Sharing a look, England and Japan patted Italy on his shoulder and straightened up. "Maybe it is better if we go now," the Englishman stated, shaking his head. "_Francis_–"

France, who had been trying to sneak his hands on Italy's stomach, stilled and flinched, backing away from the Italian nation and nodding. "Of course, of course," he murmured. "Feli, if you need help…"

With an elbow nested into France's ribs, England stared right into Italy's eyes. "If you need help, please call _me_," he stated. Italy glanced at France and nodded, thankful.

The three guests looked out of the window before leaving the house, noticing that Spain and South Italy were nowhere to be seen. With a relieved sigh, France and England hurried around the corner. Japan paused a moment and glanced back, bowing at Italy before moving down to another street, mindful of the Nations he'd tied up previously and deciding it was time to let them go.

Italy was blissful unaware of that as he closed the entrance and returned to his lover, curling at his side and waiting.

The room was silent, and Italy enjoyed the lack of noise, feeling strangely relaxed. He mildly wondered about his brother, wriggling his now naked feet around, but knew that Spain would take care of him.

Glancing to the side at Germany's still glazed over expression, he wondered what he was thinking about; he looked really off, but Italy didn't mind his lover's quirks.

After a while, though, Italy started shifting and fidgeting, bored out of his mind; standing up, he grabbed his notepad and started sketching, humming softly under his breath as he let his mind be absorbed by his drawing.

How would the baby look? Would it be a beautiful _bambina_? Or a strong–looking _bambino_ like his daddy Germany was?

Italy's heart was filled with love to give and things to teach, and he could not wait.

Meanwhile, Germany was having a battle all of his own inside his brain, completely unaware of the world around him.

'_Feliciano. Pregnant,_' he thought, utterly shocked. _'This can't be possible, he's a male'_.

He'd remained fixed on this thought for a long while, unable to advance from that single sentence as it repeated over and over in his mind, but no matter how much he thought about it, the fact didn't change; Italy's words echoed in his brain with the same worried, hesitant tone every time, yet there was something in the way he'd said it that… Germany was sure Italy believed it completely.

Pregnant.

Italy was a male, and Germany was rather sure (despite having had Prussia as his tutor and as the one who administrated the whole 'birds and bees' talk to him when he'd been younger) that males couldn't get pregnant, period.

But there again, Italy had never lied to him. Yes, there were the small white lies about who finished the last piece of Austria's cake, or who broke the vase in the corridor, but nothing this big –Italy was always honest with Germany, no matter what.

So he couldn't start now, and with something so big, would he?

Which meant, in Germany's rational mind, that Italy was truly pregnant.

Yet, at the same time, it _couldn't_ be true, because there were too many things wrong with that thought.

Pregnant.

A baby.

Germany's baby, because the thought of Italy cheating on him had a probability of happening equal to America suddenly starting to eat healthy, or to France stopping his molestations. Which meant abysmally low.

Did it mean Italy wasn't lying?

Did it mean he was telling the truth, or that he simply believed what he said?

Italy was probably aware that males were unable to bear children, and yet he was gullible enough to believe that, if he wanted to.

With that set in mind, Germany finally shook himself out of his trance, ready to face Italy and demand an explanation for his words, then stopped when he realised Italy was not standing in front of him anymore.

Blinking in surprise Germany looked around, coming to the conclusion that he had somehow spaced out, and feeling terribly ashamed for doing so.

It wasn't a common occurrence, but he'd done that once or twice already while with Italy…

Italy was sitting at his side, and Germany cleared his throat, ready to extract the necessary information from the Italian Nation so everything would shift in the right perspective again, then stopped dead.

His lover was slouched on the couch with his legs crossed and he was sketching, the only noise in the room the sound of his pencil scratching on the paper, and the sight took Germany's breath away.

So beautiful.

Italy hadn't noticed Germany coming out from his trance and was still deep into his drawing, and Germany was surprised to see how Italy's left hand was pressed on his stomach almost protectively, humming something under his breath.

Leaning forwards a bit, almost hypnotized, Germany realised that Italy was singing a lullaby. His voice was low and calm and full of love, and it washed through Germany's mind with the strength of a tsunami, making his chest grow warm and tight at the same time.

It was that sight –Italy's unconscious gesture of rubbing his fingers on his stomach, the song he was muttering (a melody familiar to Germany, yet he could not recognise it)– that finally penetrated through Germany's rationality, insinuating in him the doubt he could not confute.

Italy wasn't lying. He wasn't believing something untrue. Germany would never admit of being so ready to believe in something like that, and yet he was.

Family. A baby. Belonging. The thought was so strange, but it wasn't bad at all. It was something he craved for.

Italy gasped out in shock when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his midsection and lifted him up, and he suddenly found himself pressed against Germany's big chest, with the blond Nation's lips pressing against his own, then on his cheeks and his forehead, showering him with spontaneous kisses.

Giggling, surprised but definitely pleased, Italy wrapped his arms around Germany's neck.

"Welcome back Ludwig~"

Flushed crimson, Germany looked straight into Italy's eyes. "A baby?" he asked, his voice vibrating for a moment in hesitation. "Is it for real?"

He could not bring himself to ask 'why', or 'how is it possible?' anymore. It didn't matter.

When his lover simply nodded, smiling and kissing his neck lovingly, Germany finally allowed himself to fully believe.

A baby.

_Germany's_ baby. Inside Italy. _Growing_.

A baby together with Italy. A small life that was growing inside his lover, and that would soon grow, with small fingers, and small feet and closed eyes and…

Germany loved _kids_.

Germany loved _Italy_.

And now, there was a little _kid_ growing into _Italy's_ body, a life Germany had helped creating.

Holding Italy close to his heart, Germany smiled.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**SOY:** I hope you liked the chapter! See you hopefully soon :3 and don't forget to drop a review if you enjoyed it. ^^

_bambino/bambina (Italian)_ - little boy/little girl.

_gelateria (Italian)_ - icecream shop.


End file.
